Crimson Gold
by Syaunei
Summary: Storybrooke is a boring town and the only source of entertainment seems to be gossip. But are the rumors true? Is there perhaps more behind the facade we put up for others? A humorous take on Ruby/Gold. Mostly T, leaning towards M as the story progresses.
1. He left me what?

The sight of Mr. Gold always brought unabashed loathing and a hint of fear racing across everybody's features when he was passing through, seemingly on a leisurely stroll that was anything but, his single-minded purpose the collection of rent or loan payments. His reputation was well established and nobody questioned his motives beyond a simple wish for financial gain, calling him a dirty old miser and a scrooge quite openly behind his back, only to fall quiet and sweat slightly when he'd come knocking to collect.

Ruby hated him as much as the next person, her rage swelling on the inside when he'd come on the first of every month, precise like damned Swiss clockwork – to squeeze the last penny from Granny. They always seemed to break even, they'd have just enough to pay him and cover their expenses, but the business never flourished quite enough for them to be able to implement any actual changes in the diner or the inn, changes that would have surely, with time, returned the investment so that they could _finally_ get a break and not sweat over each and every cent.

Ruby had a love-hate relationship with Granny, and while she needed and sort of even liked her job, waiting tables was not exactly the career choice that she was going for. Sure, she was young and pretty _now_, so the tips flowed in quite bountifully (Granny let her keep half, which she used to buy make-up and all the pretty clothes that her grandma would have loved to torch for being "too provocative"; but Ruby argued once that her skimpy uniform was what was getting them enough cash to pay for the dizzying rent to the "loan shark dinosaur") but what would happen once she was older, her body less fit, not quite tight in all of the places that men just loved to ogle at? Of course, that wasn't bound to happen for a very long time, but still… No matter how obligated she felt to help Granny out, it was by no means her dream to stay stuck here all of her life, serving bacon and eggs, pie and beer to leering customers day in and day out, till she was all wrinkled and gray, her youth and vigor spent.

Speaking of gray hair, her striking kohl rimmed eyes shot sharply towards the door as the little bell chimed, announcing the next customer. She was used to, actually conditioned would be the proper term for it, looking at the door immediately upon hearing the shrill ring, knowing what to expect, mulling over in her head what certain patrons usually ordered (luckily, most of them were creatures of habit) and fixing her customary wolfish grin to greet them. This man, however, was one of the very select few that got a sneer from her instead. She couldn't really help it, it was an unconscious reaction; a well deserved one at that.

Had there been another waitress, she would have been more than happy to delegate the task to her (or threaten to blab all of the poor girl's secrets in front of the rush hour crowd if need be), anything to get out of serving this misanthropic old bastard.

Alas, she was alone, so she straightened her microscopic apron and lazily approached his table, gaze fixed on her little notepad to avoid eye-contact as much as possible. Twiddling a pen between her fingers, she cast him a brief glance of professional courtesy and asked in an automated sort of voice, like she had been programmed to do it, completely devoid of her usual flair.

"What will it be, Mr. Gold?"

Their gazes locked for a brief moment, and she could see a hint of amusement glint in his dark brown eyes, suddenly alight with suppressed mischief.

"Just coffee as usual, dear."

She could almost taste the palpable rush of bile that bubbled within her as he used that sickening term of false endearment. Everybody was his "dear"; but he didn't mean it with any of them, instead using it to poke and prod people, rubbing his superiority in their indebted faces. He was well aware of the fact that he owned all of Storybrooke, directly or indirectly, and that everyone depended on him for _something_, but that didn't mean that she had to be polite with the guy. Quite the contrary, as long as they had enough to pay the rent, she would take pleasure in providing less than satisfactory service. She turned around to fetch the pot, unwilling to dawdle.

"How would you like your coffee?" She said out of habit, even though she had intended on ignoring him for the rest of his stay.

"The usual." He replied with that mocking, lopsided grin she could hear seeping through his Scottish accent.

"As black as your soul, then…" She mumbled under her breath as she poured him a cup.

Ruby strolled leisurely to his table and dropped it in front of him, half-wishing she could just spill the scalding hot liquid into his lap, but restrained herself. She had no doubts in her mind that he would be more than delighted to press charges and take the diner from under their feet if he so desired. And no matter how satisfying it would be to see him lose composure and get second degree burns on his private bits (if he even had any, nobody had ever seen him accompanied, and he seemed thoroughly uninterested in carnal affairs, so it was quite possible that the guy was a eunuch or something), she just couldn't bring herself to do something that would break Granny's heart. The diner and the B&B were her life.

Gold looked up in brief acknowledgement and offered a sly grin as he said: "Thank you, dearie."

Ugh. That word was even worse. It felt even more condescending than "dear", if that was even possible. The disgusted look on her face must have registered with him, because he asked with a false sheepish grin plastered on his face:

"What's the matter, dearie?" The corners of his lips twitched slightly as a shadow of a smirk flickered on his wrinkled visage.

"Must you use that word?" She asked, thoroughly annoyed, feeling like he had repeated it just to spite her.

"What else should I use, dear?" He asked, trying to appear innocent and failing miserably. Even though she could see right through it, Ruby couldn't help but notice the endearment go down a notch. But then again, he could have just switched because repeating it a third time would have lost the initial impact.

That, or pushed her over the edge to slosh the burning hot coffee over his trousers after all.

"I do have a name, you know." She half-grumbled, rolling her eyes as she stood there, her hips cocked to the side, one of her arms resting on it for support. It was supposed to make her look fearsome.

In reality, all it managed to do was to make her look deliciously pouty. He let out a barely audible chuckle as he looked at her with mild interest, as if he was trying to decide the best course of action.

"Ruby…" He accentuated; the thickness of the brogue suddenly more pronounced; his voice velvety and deep. "Are you sure that would be… appropriate?"

Only then did she realize that she managed to fall into a trap. Worst of all, it was her own fault. Her name suddenly crossing his lips felt like a curse, in a way even worse than any old-world terms he could come up with. Shuddering at the thought, "_What the hell was I thinking?"_ a slight blush of embarrassment creeping up her cheeks, she turned on her heel in a flash, storming off to hide behind the counter and pretend to be busy with cleaning the coffee machine, or washing the glasses. Preferably the coffee machine. That way her back would be turned on him.

As she was changing the filters, the diner was eerily quiet, save for the soft rustle of Mr. Gold's newspapers every now and again, and she was relieved that the old fart wasn't paying attention to her anymore. She had never been a coward and was quite renowned for her devil-may-care, often most brazen attitude, fearless and cheeky with everyone. She had no qualms with slapping away grubby hands of drunken customers or even providing snarky comments, for there was nobody in this little town that scared her.

Above all else, Storybrooke was a boring little provincial town, where gossip traveled faster than the speed of light, and nothing interesting or exciting ever happened. Every aspect of life was routine, so much so that she would often change the way she dressed, usually in a constant curve towards "less is more", just to provoke a reaction out of somebody, anybody. Usually the only thing she managed to accomplish were outraged whispers of moralistically inclined old prudes and enthusiastic whistles from the approving male populace.

Yet nothing had ever managed to rattle her like this little exchange.

He didn't even _do_ anything, she chided herself. But there was just something innately unnerving about the guy. No wonder he was still alive despite being universally hated, she mused, he wasn't exactly much to look at – a slight man, about her height, (which actually meant that he was _shorter_, for she always wore heeled boots) but his inner energy, his presence was no joke. He was just as intimidating as that tall and lanky bald gorilla he would sometimes have in tow. Except for some reason, even the freakishly huge "Lurch guy" as she preferred to call him, had nothing on the menacing aura that Gold seemed to exude effortlessly. Gold was a heartless bastard, but nobody dared lift a finger against him, he was simply too powerful.

Ruby scoffed at the thought. Powerful? Like she gave a damn. The old cod could be the president of the universe and she still wouldn't care. Sure, he had the entire town in his clutches, but that didn't mean that Ruby had to bow down her head. She was stubborn and fiercely independent, and just because he was "the Big Bad" did by no means alter her opinion. "_Do your worst, Mr. Grinch."_ She thought defiantly.

The dampened clacking of his cane across the diner floor snapped her out of her reverie and she turned slightly, feeling quite relieved that he was about to leave.

Except he was going in the wrong direction.

Her eyes widened and then narrowed as his back finally disappeared behind the restroom doors.

Damn it. When she finally thought she was blessedly rid of him for the day.

He was just so damn _unsettling_. She wasn't sure whether it was because he seemed hell-bent on bleeding them dry with his sky-high rent, or perhaps it was the fault of that omnipresent, knowing little smile which unnerved her to no end. Whatever it was, she was smart enough to know that he shouldn't be crossed. At least not out in the open.

Though, petty things like getting him lukewarm coffee, or putting sugar in (which he hated), now _those_ were definitely not beneath her. She snickered in delight, contemplating other spiteful little strategies she could employ to piss him off without him knowing whether they were deliberate in nature or not.

Actually, he would probably know regardless, but wouldn't be able to do anything other than grumble.

Which would actually be an accomplishment on her part, since he always seemed so ridiculously composed.

She took a cloth and started wiping the tables. Might as well appear busy, because there was no more work to be done behind the counter and she was running out of things to do. Casting a furtive glance out the window, she prayed for customers. It was a slow morning and they really could use every penny, even though right now, the only thing she wanted was a distraction, somebody else to focus on. If that meant ignoring his summons for a refill, all the better. Customers absolutely _despised_ that.

She tackled the table with a toothy grin, her heart nearly jumping out of her chest as the restroom doors squeaked open to reveal the town ogre clad in one of his pristine suits. He was about the only person in Storybrooke that wore such expensive-looking clothes. Well, the only one besides Regina perhaps, but Madame Mayor had a reason behind her dress-code. Black was flawless on her, tight fitting suit jackets and pencil skirts, coupled with gleaming stilettos were nothing short of impeccable formal wear. It made her look like she meant business and commanded respect, while at the same time looking tasteful and elegant.

To be fair, there was nothing wrong with Gold's suits. They were the epitome of tailored perfection, such a perfect fit that it didn't even look like a second skin, it _was_ his skin. Nobody had ever seen the man wearing anything else. Hell, she wouldn't be surprised if the guy actually _slept_ in them. Either that, or in a pair of silky black pajamas, or something equally extravagant as that. _"What the fuck?" _Ruby was half-tempted to slap herself. Her brain was obviously working overtime. Maybe she should lay off the coffee. And the sugar.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him fiddling with his wallet, leaving a bill on the table. As he headed for the exit, Ruby maneuvered deftly around the table to avoid him, already on her way to wipe his table next (even though he couldn't have made much of a mess, really); already fully expecting to see a lousy tip, or none at all (the guy was, after all, a scrooge); coming to a dead halt as her eyes zoomed in on the numbers printed on it.

Her mouth formed a little red circle as she grabbed the crisp, green twenty dollar bill and pivoted to look after him, wide-eyed and dumbstruck.

He was at the door, about to push them away, when she managed to squeeze out a tad louder than she would have hoped: "Eh… What about the change?"

Gold did a half-turn, pausing at the door and leaned on his cane, both hands resting on its golden handle. A strange sort of smile tugged on his lips, something between a smile and a smirk, halfway there. He replied simply, like it was self-evident:

"Keep it."

She blinked a couple of times, her hand frozen stiff in an awkward, slightly stretched-out position. He simply smiled at her baffled expression and added:

"I would hope the blackness of my soul has nothing to do with you refusing a tip. Have a nice day."

The amusement on his features was unmistakable as he nodded curtly and left the diner, Ruby staring after him, unable to move a muscle.

She shook her head, smooth red and black tresses flaying wildly about her face. She went to the register feeling slightly mortified.

"_He heard it. "_

She used both palms to slap her cheeks in reprimand.

Ruby would have expected him to trip her with his cane for that comment, and instead he left her a _tip._ A huge one at that.

Maybe the guy was a masochist or something?

Suddenly she had the urge to do even worse next time, just to see how he'd react.

This was a tip she definitely wouldn't be sharing with Granny.


	2. How to make a whale wail

The next time Mr. Gold stepped into the diner, which was incidentally a week later (not that she was counting or anything) she felt no more prepared to deal with him than on their previous encounter. She watched him carefully from behind the counter, a mixture of relief and displeasure swirling within her when he failed to acknowledge her presence.

This time at least, the diner wasn't completely empty. There were two girls sitting in the corner next to the blind-covered glass front of the establishment; no doubt engaged in vapid gossip. Ruby disliked the inseparable duo, partly because she could see them attempting to hide the disgusted curls of their lips while no doubt commenting on her heavy make-up or the length of her uniform, but mostly because they were self-absorbed and thought too highly of themselves, going through great pains to show off their branded clothing while Ruby knew they barely had a penny to their name after their mother squandered her deceased husband's fortune.

A few feet away from them sat Dr. Whale, an insufferable womanizer who thought himself irresistible, while he was, in fact, tragically deluded. Presently, the seat across him was poignantly vacant; his sour expression clearly indicating that he had either been stood up, or recently dumped. He gulped down his drink, and then motioned for her, his teeth clenched.

She got to his table, keeping a comfortable distance (the man had a hard time keeping his hands to himself once he'd had a couple of drinks) and asked politely:

"Anything else, Doctor?"

Using the back of his fingers, he pushed the glass forward and mumbled in a hoarse voice: "Another. Keep 'em coming. Oh, and give me a slice of that apple pie."

With a quick nod, she hurried to get his order, reminding herself not to refill his glass more than twice. He already had three. This had the potential to turn ugly, and if it came down to it, she was more than willing to break a bottle over his head. Of all the people in the diner, there was about nobody who would come to her rescue, and she had never been much of a damsel in distress anyhow.

As she carried the tray to his table, a sudden movement stopped her dead in her tracks. She glared at the person who dared stretch a black, polished cane in her way, knowing full well that she had (albeit unknowingly) managed to ignore him ever since he came in a couple of minutes ago. Well, goodie. The fossil could wait.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Gold. I will be with you in a moment." She squeezed through her teeth, failing miserably at her attempt to sound civil.

His lips however, curled into an amused smile as he replied pleasantly: "I have no doubt about that, dearie."

With that, his cane slipped away, joining his side at once, and she turned her attention to the good doctor. She lingered for a moment, noticing how hatefully he stabbed the fork into his slice, almost like he would have rather wished it were someone's face. Torn between a laugh and a shiver, she finally took a step into Mr. Gold's direction.

Needless to say, the pawnbroker sat as far away as humanly possible from the rest, but then again… he was hardly human to begin with.

"What will it be, Mr. Gold?" She asked all business-like, pursing her full red lips at him absently.

When his silence finally made her pay attention, she noticed that he wasn't even looking at her, his gaze fixed instead on Dr. Whale's personal vendetta against the pie. She let out an involuntary chuckle, suddenly feeling self-conscious as she was greeted by Gold's almost conspiratorial gaze. He was smiling too, except it didn't look faked this time, the old miser actually managed to look genuinely amused.

"It would seem that your apple pie brings out some… rather violent tendencies. It may be a good idea for me to avoid it then."

Ruby couldn't help but chuckle at that, showing off her sparkly white grin. The guy might've crawled straight out of a tar pit, but he could be funny when he felt like it.

"Yeah, that would be a good idea." She conceded, giving credit where it was due.

Gold seemed pleased as he placed his order: "I think I'll have a slice of pecan pie."

"A wise choice." Ruby murmured as she noted it down. She didn't actually _need_ to write his order down, it was simple enough to memorize, and the diner was nearly empty anyhow, but it's become a force of habit, and she realized that it might not be a bad idea to have an extra set of records lying around. She also justified it by the fact that she got distracted sometimes, especially during rush hour, when it was nearly impossible to memorize the never-ending flood of orders.

She turned around, dotting the "i" and said to herself, tilting her head gently in the process: "I hope you're not allergic to nuts…"

"Well, in that case I should consider myself lucky that we have a doctor in here. As distracted… as he might be at the moment."

Ruby froze; eyebrows suddenly drawn together, her mouth hung agape, her face stuck in a expression that could have been perfectly described as: "what-the-hell-have-I-done". She was immediately immensely grateful for the fact that Gold couldn't see her face. Maybe he wouldn't notice? But then she realized that she wasn't moving at all. Even if he had any doubts before, her faltering mid-step was a dead give-away. She closed her eyes and grit her teeth, head jerking almost imperceptibly, managing to at least resist the urge to stomp her foot. "_Stupid! That was so stupid!"_

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she went to fetch Mr. Gold's already tardy order. After this blunder, she felt quite undeserving of a tip and secretly hoped he wouldn't give her one, as per usual. Then she could go back to her full time job of hating him.

And that's when she knew herself that she'd finally lost her marbles. There was no other explanation.

She _loved_ tips. They were, quite literally, her bread and butter (actually her mascara and nail-polish, but that was beside the point) and her wishing to actually _not get one_ (_especially_ after the one the tightwad had left for her last time) was a sure sign of going off her rocker. Suddenly she wondered how much Dr. Hopper charged for his sessions.

After adding two bountiful spoonfuls of whipped cream to Mr. Gold's pecan pie, she placed it on the tray carefully, carrying it to the man with a slight swagger.

She felt considerably less flustered than before as she dropped the plate in front of him, immediately flinging the tray around to rest against her back, holding it with both hands, swaying slightly on the soles of her feet, not quite sure what to say next. Luckily, some sort of primitive waitressing programming kicked in as she offered with a smile: "Enjoy your pie!"

With that, she spun on her heel and headed back to the counter, inwardly whimpering at the fact that her voice sounded a bit too cheerful for her taste a moment ago.

As if on some bizarre cue of providence, the obnoxious pair of girls asked for their check, Ruby slipping back into her comfortable routine once more.

Once they had left, Ruby dusted off her apron absent-mindedly, Whale's slurred grumble calling for a refill. This was the last one he was getting, Ruby mused as she poured him a drink.

She had barely enough time to wash some left-over dishes when he raised his hand into the air once more, slightly slumped in his seat, looking thoroughly trashed. "_You're not getting any more drinks from me, Mister."_ Ruby thought gingerly.

She proceeded to ignore him and started to dry the dishes, when he let out a guttural, strangled moan, beckoning her. With a frustrated sigh, Ruby whipped the kitchen cloth down and marched straight to his table, ready to give him a piece of her mind, quite willing to accompany it with a well-aimed kick in the ass in case he'd refuse to drag his sorry (soon to be sore) behind out of the diner.

"I think you've had a bit too much to drink, doc. Better go home now."

But the stubborn drunk refused to move, picking up his glass lightly, only to bash it against the table next, making Ruby flinch slightly.

He cast her a dazed glare through the ruffled, messy strands of his thin hair which clung to the sweaty surface of his forehead. There was something wild and unhinged in his eyes as he spoke:

"Women are poison… Poison, you hear?"

He was obviously completely wasted, and Ruby knew she had to be careful.

"No, doctor. I'm pretty sure the poison in this case is your preferred whisky. I think you should go home now."

But he continued to rave on, his speech slurred, as he waved his hands around, as if trying to chase away an alcoholic haze.

"You're all the same… You just –"He hiccupped. "- take what you want and then –" A slight garbled burp surfaced, sounding like it was formed underwater, making her face pinch in disgust. " – you throw us away like trash." He finished indignantly, shaking his head.

"Not all women are the same, doc, but I guess you just had shitty luck so far."

He looked back at her, his gaze suddenly searching (for what exactly, she didn't know) but it caused her instincts to kick in, some primitive built-in alarm system going off, red lights blaring in her head. She took half a step back when his hand snapped shut around her wrist in a flash, so fast Ruby had no time to react.

"Have a drink with me." He half pleaded, half demanded.

"You're plastered, doc, I don't think that would be such a good idea. Let me go." Her voice adamant, she glared at him, trying to break free.

But he would not comply, his fingers tightening around her hand like a vice. While at first his touch had been merely sweaty and highly uncomfortable, now it was painful as he was cutting off her bloodstream.

"Oh, come on, Ruby… Be a good girl and sit with me."

She immediately mourned the oversight on her part. She should have brought the bottle with her and brandished it as a weapon. The only thing she could do now was struggle and hope that he was too sloshed to maintain his balance.

"Let me go! I'll call the police!" She growled, her teeth bared menacingly.

"Now, now, be a good girl and – "

Ruby would have none of his nonsense, so she dug the nails of her left hand deep into his grubby paw, eliciting a loud groan from the drunken moron, quite willing to bite him or kick him in the groin, but then she barely registered the swift, uncontrolled motion of his heavy hand as he smacked her across the face. It wasn't as strong as she would have thought initially, since he was reeling, but for a brief moment her vision went red as she was sent backwards, her thighs bruising on the edge of the table as she crashed into it.

Before she could get to her senses, and had half a mind to grab the shaker of pepper from the table and go straight for the bastard's eyes, the good doctor was choking, a swift move of something slender and black smashing against his windpipe in a long, smooth swipe.

The next thing she knew, Whale was on the floor, on his knees, clutching his neck and having a coughing fit. With a lightning quick jab to his shoulder, he was sent backwards, now laying sprawled across the floor, the sharper end of the cane digging into his chest as Mr. Gold loomed above him, leaning heavily onto the cane; a merciless expression on his face.

"When a lady says no, a _man_ listens." He growled, his teeth bared in a menacing gesture. Not that Whale could even register it. He whimpered instead, trying to grab onto the cane, but it only caused him more pain as Gold drove it down harder.

"Which must mean… that you are not a man, but scum. Aren't you, laddie?"

Ruby watched in amazement as Whale gurgled unintelligibly; something that couldn't possibly have been taken as an intelligent response.

"Tell it like it _is_!" Gold yelled at the helpless drunk at his feet.

"Yes – Yes I am –" Whale choked.

But it seemed like Gold wasn't satisfied quite yet: "What are you, boy?"

As if he had finally gotten his brain back from the steel grip of alcohol, or perhaps it was merely a belated sense of self-preservation kicking in, Whale wailed as loudly as his crushed torso would allow: "Scum! I'm scum! Please –"

With that, Gold wrenched his cane away, stepping aside with a grace surprising for a man with a limp, looking at the broken-down man at his feet with a sneer of obvious distaste.

Ruby couldn't look away. Her gaze was fixated on her unlikely savior's face, observing the look of grim satisfaction lighting up his features, completely mesmerized. Her eyes must have been wide as saucers when Gold finally turned to her and asked in a perfectly calm voice:

"Are you all right, dearie?"

The man had just fucking _brutalized_ her assailant, leaving him broken like a rag doll on the floor of her diner, for all intents and purposes – _wiping the floor with him_ – and was now calm and content like they were discussing the _bloody_ _weather_.

She gave him an incredulous look, her brain momentarily out of order.

"What's the matter dearie, cat got your tongue?" He asked teasingly.

She still couldn't wrap her head around this. The first thing she managed to utter breathlessly was the honest to God truth, floating on the surface of her mind at the time.

"Mr. Gold… You're a beast." With that said, her gaze was still fixed on his, and he started laughing, looking thoroughly amused, due to her dumbstruck expression, no doubt.

She was aware that she must have looked spectacularly embarrassing, half sitting on a table, her hands frozen stiff in a merciless grip on its edge, and that bewildered, half-smitten look etched on her face.

His ringing laughter finally coming to a halt, dying in a snicker across his lips, his eyes fluttered open, lit mischievously.

"That, I won't disagree with."

She was so intent on watching him settle down; collected once more, that she barely noticed Whale shuffling to his feet, half-crawling out of the diner. The sound of the bell snapped her out of the hypnosis as her mind registered the drunken doctor's departure.

"I hope you will testify in my favor." Gold stated, the tone of his voice once again his usual, business-like timbre.

"What?" Ruby cast a confused glance his way.

"In case he decides to press charges." He said simply.

Ruby half huffed, half snorted as she gave him an incredulous look.

"Let him try! It was self-defense."

"It was not me that he assaulted, dearie."

It took a moment for her mind to register what he meant exactly, and she laughed, suddenly embarrassed at how fuzzy her brain was. Must have been that slap, knocked something loose upstairs.

"Even better!" Ruby grinned in delight, feeling her wits slowly return as inspiration struck.

"I can see the headlines already: "_Innocent young girl saved from a drunken assailant by a heroic customer!_" Extra, extra! Oh… Sydney's gonna have a field day. Finally something tabloid-worthy."

Gold chortled as he struggled to reply: "Oh, yes. Except I am sure that the facts will get so twisted, that in the end, the assailant would turn out to be me, and Whale would be dubbed the hero."

Ruby laughed at the grain of truth carefully wrapped in his sharp wit and offered smugly: "Oh, no Mr. Gold. They'd turn Whale into a victim and dub _me_ the hero."

He simply smirked at her. "I wouldn't mind reading that version of events."

"Well, I'm no damsel in distress, that's for sure!" Ruby let out a giggle, her body finally relaxing enough for her to stand up and stretch her recalcitrant limbs.

"Far from it." Gold commented; his lips stretched into that knowing little smile which usually made her want to smack him across the face with a tray.

"Well, you still saved my butt. I guess that makes you my knight in shining armor." She teased.

Gold let out an amused snicker. "I think you had it right the first time around, dearie."

His eyes were lit once again by that mysterious deviousness, but strangely, she could feel no ill will in their depths. He looked like he was trying to get a message across, but for all her smarts, she couldn't decipher what it was.

"Have it your way." She let out a small, mock-exasperated sigh and grinned. "Most people would fancy thinking themselves princes and you'd rather be a beast…"

He flashed a knowing grin. "Ah…I'm not most people."

"You really aren't, are you?" She shook her head, looking at him with unsuppressed interest. "Well, good for you. Good guys are all boring, anyways." She shrugged and turned around, completely missing the way his eyebrows rose to that last comment.

He wished her good night and left the diner. She hadn't bothered looking after him, her forehead thumping against the cold counter-top.

This night was absolutely _crazy._ She strolled to the doors and locked them for the moment as she fumbled around for the switch to shut off the red neon sign on their left store-front window, which would alert anyone still awake that they were, in fact, no longer open for business.

She moved to clear the rest of the tables and stopped dead as she reached for Mr. Gold's empty plate.

He didn't pay for his pie.

In fact, neither of them paid their bills.

She was suddenly furious, thinking about how dead she'd be in the morning, trying to explain to Granny why there's money missing. She didn't care much for Mr. Gold's pie, but Dr. Whale's bill was substantial, the man having literally drowned his sorrows in whisky.

She would most _definitely_ be calling the Sheriff's office first thing in the morning, filing a complaint and demanding a refund.

But why would Mr. Gold neglect to pay his bill? Everyone knew that he hoarded money like Scrooge McDuck, but he never forgot to pay his bills. The man was nothing but consistent.

Perhaps he felt entitled to a reward for saving her? That seemed pretty ridiculous, but then again… It was true that Gold never did _anything_ for free, there was always a deal to be made, there was always something in it for him. Even so, a simple slice of pecan pie wasn't exactly a suitable payment for his troubles.

Maybe he simply forgot? It was a hectic situation after all, she wouldn't be at all surprised if that were the case, but Gold really _really_ didn't seem like the kind of man capable of forgetting anything. The throngs of desperate debtors left in his wake were proof enough.

She felt a headache creeping up her skull and decided to dismiss the thought for now.

She could always ask him tomorrow. If he comes for coffee. After she sues Whale's ass.

Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.


	3. You're not so bad

After having wasted two hours of her life at the Sheriff's station going over the details of last night's events, Graham seemed furious enough at Dr. Whale to rip him a new one, and sufficiently assured that Mr. Gold was acting purely in her best interests (something she wasn't quite convinced of herself). He assured her that Whale would be dealt with; refund and charges alike. Ruby looked at him as he was explaining some legal procedures in greater detail, but she didn't really listen to what he was saying. The guy was just so dreamy, giving off an ethereal sort of detachment in conjuncture with his slightly rugged good looks.

"_The guy could be a model, what the hell is he doing in Storybrooke?"_

"Excuse me, am I interrupting something?"

Ruby jolted awake all of a sudden, feeling as if she had just gulped down a gallon of black coffee, and turned to the door where a lean figure stood, poised against the frame. Of course it was _him_. Nobody else in this godforsaken sinkhole had the ability to be so damn _disturbing_.

Graham however, seemed unfazed.

"Good morning, Mr. Gold, what can I do for you?"

Gold merely smiled (actually the movement was so minute that the good sheriff probably missed it altogether) and offered:

"In this case, it would be more appropriate to ask what I could do for the young lady over there." He finished, casting her a sideways glance without moving from his spot.

Again this man and his use of the word "appropriate"! Her lips tightened as she weighed his words carefully. What is it with this man that makes her feel the need to dissect his words?

It must be his reputation; the reptile practically _thrived_ on technicalities, sometimes forcing people out of their homes over a single line in fine print. Gold, on the other hand, seemed thoroughly uninterested, his usual business-like air dominant on his features. If there was indeed something here that he hoped to gain, it wasn't showing on his face at all. The man was suddenly impossible to read.

But what did he want? Did he want something from Graham? Granny, perhaps? Or did he want something from her? That couldn't be right, she had nothing of value. Without a penny to her name, stuck waiting tables – a dead-end job in a dead-end town, she was nothing more than a pretty young face. An uncomfortable wave of warmth washed over her. She shook her head, the heating system was probably just broken or something.

Just another proof of tax-payer money well spent.

She was so deep in thought that a small gasp escaped her lips when Graham called her name for the second time.

"Ruby?"

Taken aback, she managed to mumble something barely intelligible: "Mmmhyeah? Sorry?"

"I asked if you agreed with what Mr. Gold said. Were you even listening?"

Ruby gaped for a moment, feeling like a fish stuck on dry land, when her brain managed to jumpstart.

"Uhh, yea! Sorry, must have dozed off a little… Didn't really get much sleep last night." She fumbled, flashing him her most endearing apologetic look.

"Understandable…" Graham looked sympathetic. "Well, you agree with what Mr. Gold said?"

Honest to God, she had _no idea _whatsoever, but she didn't want to appear even more stupid than she already felt, her vacant expression probably _painfully_ obvious already (at least to the sharp-dressed manther looking at her smugly already, God, why the hell did he feel the _need_ do that?).

"Yes! I, uh… Yeah, I do. He's right."

" _Goddammit Ruby! How stupid and embarrassing can you get?"_

Luckily for her, Graham didn't seem to notice the fact that she had just unnecessarily repeated the same thing three times in a row, and she made a mental note to herself to carry mace with her at all times from now on, getting rescued was turning out to be way more trouble than it was worth.

When she risked a glance in Gold's direction, she could see that little knowing smile quiver on his lips as he turned away from her to face the Sheriff, his eyes lingering on her just a fraction of a second too long. She suddenly felt the urge to lunge for Graham's gun and shoot that infuriating little smirk right off the bastard's angular face. Or maybe just bust his other knee-cap. She doubted that he'd be half as intimidating in a wheel-chair.

The slight shadow of satisfaction which raced across her face went unnoticed as Graham shook Mr. Gold's hand.

"Thank you for coming forward with the information. I appreciate it."

"Just doing my civic duty." Gold answered matter-of-factly. Ruby narrowed her eyes slightly, searching for anything fishy.

Well, that wasn't hard to find, in her dictionary the two terms were synonymous.

"In any case, I'm glad that you were there at the time. I don't really want to think about what would have happened had Ruby been there alone."

"She's a tough girl. I'm sure she would have taken care of him eventually."

The completely assured tone of his voice threw her off. She would have expected him to glance her way, to show a bit of teeth in his usual, most disconcerting way, but he did nothing of the sort. Their handshake loosening, she heard him wish the Sheriff a good day, and subsequently, disappear out the door without hesitation.

"Well, I think we're done here. Say hi to Granny for me." Graham said warmly.

"Uh, sure. See ya around!" Ruby waved at him and hurried out, not quite sure why she was walking so fast.

"Mr. Gold!" She heard herself calling out to him, feeling quite detached from her brain at the moment, her body and mouth way ahead of any conscious decision or thought.

She felt a sudden warmth of anger mixing with a hint of panic as she saw him disappear around a corner without stopping. _"Damn you, old man! There's no way you didn't hear me!" _

To be fair, he _was_ old. Maybe his hearing was the first thing to go?

"Mr. Gold!" She tried again, rounding the bend, slowing her pace once she stood by his side.

He stopped and looked at her, his face showing nothing but slight surprise.

Ignoring the seemingly genuine reaction on his part, Ruby was suddenly uncomfortable, realizing that she made no actual plans on what she would say to the man once she caught up with him.

Likely unknowingly, Gold came to her rescue.

"What is it, dear?"

Determined not to waste the lifeline he had graciously offered her, Ruby said meekly: "Well… I just wanted to say thanks. For saving me. And for the statement, you didn't have to do that."

"I recall asking you to be my witness if needed." Gold pointed out their yesterday's conversation.

"What about it?" Ruby asked, confused.

"You see, my dear… the thing about making deals is, that they are never one-sided. There's always a certain… Tit-for-tat, let's say."

"Tits-for-what?" Ruby muttered, immediately realizing what left her mouth and wanted a chasm to open under her feet and swallow her whole. _"Oh, just drag me to Hell, why don't ya?"_

Gold let out a small chuckle of honest amusement, soaking up the nuances of emotion on her distressed features. She was currently biting the corner of her lower lip, her upper one trembling and her cheeks appropriately flushed in a very fitting shade of red, complimenting her otherwise flawlessly fair skin and the rich burgundy highlights in her hair.

"It's just an expression, dearie." He smiled softly, as if trying to assuage her profound embarrassment. "It means that the exchange must be of equal value."

"Then, what do you want from me?" She asked before she could think better of it.

Gold's eyebrows arched upward slightly, looking surprised and interested at the same time and he spoke softly: "Whatever do you mean?"

She had fully expected a _dearie_ or _dear_ to pop up at the end of his sentence, but none came despite her staring unblinking at him for what she was sure was too long.

She was reading too much into this.

"_C'mon, brain, work!" _

This wasn't like her. She was used to having a response to _everything_, the arguments she had with Granny over the years made her somewhat of an expert in that field; and she couldn't recall a single person that ever managed to throw her off her game like this. She shivered slightly as awkward words formed in her mouth. She'd get her mojo back. _Nobody_ would make a stuttering little blonde out of her! Especially not _this_… Whatever the hell he was. She was honestly running out of bad names to call him.

"You confuse me. Explain what you meant." She was surprised at the amount of confidence displayed in her tone as she eyed him with suspicion, her left hand perched on her hip. Now, this was more like the good ol' Ruby, unwavering, laughing in the face of danger.

An indulgent look on his face, Gold straightened, looking quite poised against his cane, suddenly appearing almost… gentlemanly. "I'm afraid there has been a misunderstanding. I was merely suggesting that, since you have accepted to testify for me, I was simply returning the favor by extending you the same courtesy."

"Oh." She replied, unsure of how to react. Scrutinizing his face for any traces of deception, she lingered on his features for a moment, noticing him, in a certain way, for the first time. There was more to him than met the eye, certainly more than his bad rep would suggest. Yes, sure, he was sly and conniving, and creepy most of the time, but that wasn't all. While she would have earlier dismissed his calmness as an unmistakable symptom of having a heart made of stone, now, when she caught a glimpse of something else in her peripheral vision, somewhere at the darkening rim, on the very border of sight and understanding; she could dismiss it no longer. With a heavy heart, she had to admit it to herself at last: Mr. Gold wasn'treallyall_ that _bad_. _

"Ok then." She shrugged, hoping that this sliver of trust that was forming in her heart wouldn't eventually get trampled by one of his schemes. She'd give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.

But he was still on probation.

"You forgot to pay for your pie." Ruby grinned, her voice a shade more accusatory than she had initially planned.

„I'm afraid it did nothing for my violent tendencies... You really should put a warning into those menus instead of deceiving your guests. "

Ruby couldn't help but giggle at his playful remark, good humor was her weakness.

„Hey, not my fault!" She raised her hands in defense. "If it's not the apples, then there must be something in the flour. "

It was his turn to be amused, and she noticed for the first time how thoroughly un-menacing he looked when he laughed (sincerely at least). The mask he had firmly in place for the whole town to tremble before had softened considerably in her presence.

Or at least that was what it seemed like.

Perhaps he was just misunderstood?

That was something she could sympathize with. It was the same with her, albeit for different reasons. While he was feared and hated for being a ruthless businessman, she was gossiped about behind her back, by everyone, from the wrinkled old witches to the town milkman, just for the fact that she had her own (admittedly, audacious) sense of fashion.

But she got used to it and held her head up high. No sense in being ashamed of who she was, let the village talk. If she was the most interesting thing in their miserable little lives, then it was them that deserved pity.

Suddenly she felt like she had found a kindred spirit of sorts, for Gold didn't seem like he cared much for the whispers behind his back any more than she did, and just went on about his business ignoring the pitiful folk.

"Well, violent outbursts aside, that pie ain't gonna pay for itself."

He cast her a strange look, nearly _pouty_, something which she was sure nobody had ever seen (or if they had, she was quite sure they would have been dead and buried in the woods before they could think of spreading the tale).

"Don't get me wrong, if it were up to me, it would have been on the house, but Granny is kind of… stingy." She finished, looking at him with unbridled curiosity, soaking up his subtle (and often hard to read) displays of emotion.

"Well, you needn't worry about that, my dear. I was on my way to the scene of the crime anyhow. A deal is a deal. Paying for a meal is no different."

Ruby smiled smugly. So the man was consistent after all.

"You know, you're not as bad as they say." She offered coyly as they walked out of the station together.

He leaned his head towards her ever so slightly; his gaze fixed in front of him and muttered conspiratorially under his breath: "Just don't tell anyone."

"Oh, no way!" Ruby laughed, her full red lips stretched into a knowing smile. "I don't want to end up dead in the woods…"

Her eyes darted to him as she saw him trying (as it seemed at least) really hard to suppress a chuckle.

"You're a smart girl." He offered; an amused grin on his face.

Ruby laughed and elbowed him in the ribs ever so slightly, offering no other form of reply as they headed towards the diner in companionable silence.


	4. They call her spitfire

After Mr. Gold paid his dues, Ruby fully expected never to see him again, or rather, to see him as infrequently as before, but it seemed that the man had developed a newly-found appreciation for their coffee. (He still seemed hell-bent on avoiding their pies though, which made Ruby laugh.)

"You sure you don't want a slice? You could use a burst of energy. Today's special is spinach!" Ruby teased him shamelessly.

"Do I look like a sailor to you, dearie?"

She grinned widely; secretly somewhat proud that he caught the reference, and pursued the line of thought.

"Nope… More like a pirate." She was trying to look serious, but a slight self-satisfied smile betrayed her intentions.

He could see right through her and she knew it, but he seemed to be enjoying this little exchange just as much as she was and it made her feel ridiculously accomplished for some inexplicable reason.

"Perhaps you are not informed, but I do not, in fact, own a computer." He stated, looking deceptively uninterested.

It took her a moment to decipher what he was trying to say, suddenly changing the subject in such a crazy fashion, her eyebrows drawn together as a flicker of confusion swished over her face only to dissolve into a toothy grin not a moment later.

The sly old fox! He was good. She watched him trying to be all suave as he took a sip of his black coffee, knowing full well that he was waiting for her to come up with something witty. Ruby snickered; the guy should be careful what he wished for.

"All right, I'll just ignore the precious booty piled in that cave you've cleverly disguised as a pawnshop…"

A sparkly, gleeful smile lit her face as the ever-serious Mr. Gold choked, sputtering coffee, some of it straight back into his mug, the rest spraying on the table.

She had him now.

With a mental high-five to her brilliant self, she leaned in to wipe the mess he had made with her help. Casting a brief glance over her shoulder (to make sure nobody else was watching), satisfied once she was positive no one could see her whispering to the most despised man in town, Ruby shrouded her face further in her hair and hunched over the table, her round shoulder inches away from his nose.

"Careful there, Mr. Gold. Did I not warn you the coffee was hot?"

She could have sworn that she caught a flicker of surprise in his dark eyes, but it was smothered by mischief so fast that she started to doubt whether it had ever been there in the first place.

Looking forward to a devious reply, she watched with withheld breath as he leaned closer, his breath a caress upon a stray crimson strand of her hair. Her grin faltered as he spoke, once again looking as cool as ice.

"Your hair is in my coffee."

She jumped up, trying to assess the extent of damage done to her hair, but after having messily pulled her fingers through and through in a frenzied hurry, her eyes narrowed and she shot a near-murderous glare of outrage his way.

The worst of all, the bastard looked so damn _smug_ about it; the gloating, self-satisfied smirk was impossible to bear.

"When you play with fire…" He trailed off, thoroughly enjoying himself by adding insult to injury.

He _tricked_ her, the bastard!

For once, she had nothing to say, anger swelling within, it took all of her determination not to purse her lips in a pout, opting instead for a retreat.

"_Retreat and regroup. " _

He would pay for this, Ruby fumed as she stormed into the kitchen, the doors swinging violently on the squeaky hinges.

Granny had been making inventory in the back and looked at her granddaughter with mild concern.

"What's wrong?"

"_I'm gonna get him for this, I'm so gonna get him for this!"_

"Ruby?"

"_I'm gonna spit in his coffee. No, too simple… I'll put a cockroach into whatever he orders next, I'll –"_

"Answer me, girl!" Granny shouted, aware that it was the only way to grab the dazed girl's attention.

"He makes me so mad!" Ruby stomped her boot in frustration.

"Which boy is it this time?" Granny asked in a resigned manner.

"What?" Ruby shook her head, her brain too preoccupied with petty revenge scenarios to entertain anything else. But she still knew what her grandmother usually meant by that, having had this conversation at least a dozen times before. "_Oh, not you too!" _Ruby thought, furious.

"This is not about me dating!"

"It usually is." Granny pointed out, unfazed. She was quite used to Ruby's occasional tantrums. "Who's the unlucky guy this time?"

"Mr. Gold!" Ruby spat hatefully, whipping the cloth she still held in her hand against the gleaming metal cabinets with a vengeance.

"Oh, well, I knew that him saving you was just a stunt… Leave him be."

"I'll _strangle_ him!" She huffed, dropping the cloth with a snap, leaning against the silvery surface, shoulders stiff.

"What did he do?" Her grandma asked, sounding half-bored, half-curious.

Ruby was still having trouble breathing normally, her blood pressure probably off the charts as she fumed.

"Did he… touch you?" Now, that sounded serious, as serious as the old woman ever could get, her voice suddenly hushed, a hint of worry seeping through.

"What?" Ruby snapped. "No! Ew!" Her face grimaced in disgust.

Granny's face softened, returning to her customary look of slight scorn.

"If he did that, I'd have crippled him way worse than he already is." Ruby finished darkly, her thoughts racing back to the image of Graham's gun firing off at Mr. Gold's remaining good knee.

"What did he do that made you so angry, Ruby?"

Ruby felt her temper ease a little as she stopped to think about it.

She chewed on her lower lip, replaying their earlier conversation in her head, fishing for that trigger which made her explode like a brick of C4. Everything was fine, one moment they were just having fun, exchanging playful remarks, and the next he was in her _face_, whispering and being generally obnoxious. Her hair was probably never anywhere _near_ his damned coffee to begin with! He pulled a fast one on her and it made her want to spill that same mug full of scalding liquid over his lap, just like that day when he just _had_ to leave her that ridiculously huge tip and make her intrigued enough to actually entertain the thought, that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't such a huge asshole after all.

But what did he do that made her blow up like a super-volcano?

Sure, she felt humiliated when he'd deceived her, and her inability to come up with a quick and sufficiently intelligent response only made her feel worse. Her wounded pride stung like a bitch right now.

But why would she even get that feeling in the first place? They were only playing their little game of witty retorts. A game she had lost.

"_Wait a second, Rubes…" _She thought when a moment of clarity struck her like a crash of lightning.

It was just a game. Just a stupid little, insignificant _game._

She had managed to overreact massively, throwing a temper tantrum like a spoiled five year old, all of it in front of a man old enough to be her father. And apparently as mature, too.

She just acted like an immature brat in front of a man who didn't even know what was going on in her head.

Which meant that she, basically, got mad over nothing.

"What did he do, Ruby?"

"Nothing!" She snapped, spinning around to face Granny, her fists clenched tight, pressed against her sides. "He was just obnoxious!"

"Oh." Granny waved her hand dismissively, looking relieved at once, slightly annoyed even for this waste of time.

"Well, now that that's settled, get out of here and do your job."

Ruby blanched at the thought, eyes wide. There was just no way she'd be facing the man now, not like this, when she could feel the last vestiges of her anger subsiding, leaving behind an emotion she was ill-equipped to deal with. If she went out now, this ugly feeling would be so painfully _obvious_ to him. Going out there like this would turn just into another defeat, and she had no intention whatsoever of giving him the satisfaction twice in the same day. Just the thought of that little gloating smile of his made her blood boil.

"Gran… Can you just take his check please? I… I don't think I'm capable of dealing with him right now."

The old woman looked at her bewildered, but then tilted her head and shrugged. She seemed appeased and Ruby felt a huge weight fall off her shoulders.

"Fine. By the time I'm back though, you better be ready to come back to work."

"No problem! Thank you, Granny." She looked at her gratefully, her eyes full of warmth and appreciation.

As her grandmother swung the doors open, Ruby let out a huge sigh of relief.

One day, she'd feel calm enough to get over this, but not now.

Not until he was as far away from her sight as possible.


	5. Thinking about Gold is NSFW

It took two messed up orders and a broken glass for Granny to finally declare Ruby a menace to their business and shoo her away from the diner for the rest of the day. The rebellious girl sighed deeply, taking this as a blessing in disguise – a good, long shower would help ease some of the stress that had piled up since the fight with Mr. Gold.

It actually wasn't much of a fight, she thought, feeling slightly miserable about it. This wasn't like her at all. No matter whom it was she fought with, the rage would usually subside after she vented her anger and frustrations on something or someone, but her usual methods of dealing with stress didn't seem to be working today – the cabinet whipping was the first, but not the last of her attempts at expelling her fury.

The final nail in her coffin happened while she was drying the glasses, rubbing them roughly, squeezing one a bit too tightly in the process, perfectly content with envisioning Mr. Gold suffocating as she brushed the cloth around in vicious circles.

And then the glass broke, of course.

Instead of making her feel better for destroying something, it actually managed to make her angry instead. The glass couldn't fight back and was, therefore, just an innocent casualty of the war Ruby was waging in her head. She had been so distracted that she managed to mess up two orders in less than half an hour, something which hadn't happened in _years_. The botched orders made Granny banish her to the kitchen in the first place, thinking it would be easier on Ruby not to deal with people until she felt better, but not even that helped in the end.

To make matters worse, a veritable cherry on top of this _wonderful_ day, one of the broken shards managed to draw blood from her left palm, leaving two little puncture marks in the middle, as well as a little gash across the side. It wasn't that bad, didn't hurt or bleed much, but it was more than enough for Granny to toss her out before she managed to kill herself or put rat poison in someone's coffee instead of brown sugar.

And she had to admit, distracted as this, she was a disaster waiting to happen (already in progress, more likely), so the rest of the day off sounded positively peachy in comparison. It would certainly give her time to cool down. And think.

Not that she wanted to think. That's what got her in trouble with Granny in the first place.

First she messed up Leroy's order, bringing him a spinach pie instead of whatever it was that he ordered, and when he called her out on it, she froze momentarily, remembering Mr. Gold for the fifteenth time since he left the diner, vivid images of wooden legs, eye patches, and golden earrings swimming in front of her eyes, mixing with the old man's image. Suddenly, she could see him in an elaborate pirate costume, something close to Dustin Hoffman's snazzy red Captain Hook outfit; a gleaming saber pointed at her back, that infuriating little smile stretching across his face as he made her walk the plank…

"What's this, sister?" Leroy grumbled louder, snapping her out of the unpleasant daydream.

"What does it look like?" Ruby snapped at him, realizing at once that this was definitely not the proper way to talk to a customer, especially one that was not at fault (and this time, he really wasn't).

"It looks like something I didn't order." He pointed out bluntly.

Half tempted to lash out and say: _"It's food, just eat the darned thing."_ She reprimanded herself, _"the customer is always right… unless he tries to touch my butt, in that case it's ok to stab him with a fork" _and calmed down somewhat, enough to try and salvage whatever was left of that waitressing programming now fragmented in her head. She mumbled a frustrated "Sorry" under her breath and went to fetch the right order. It turned out that she had actually mixed up his order with Mary Margaret's, but the kind-hearted teacher didn't seem to mind, dismissing the mix-up with a simple: "It's ok to have a bad day. Happens to everyone."

Even though Ruby was inwardly quite relieved that at least one of the customers didn't seem to mind her general lack of attention, her grandma had no such problems, noticing trouble brewing and promptly removing Ruby from the floor.

And then the glass debacle. Granny plastered a huge band-aid on her palm, one that looked like she had fished it out of a WWI first aid kit and sent her home to rest.

While she would normally be happy about this unexpected break, ending her shift half-way through meant no tips. And no tips meant less money for her expenses (the same ones Granny refused to cover!). And _that_ was nothing to be happy about.

She sighed as she entered her room, and upon throwing herself onto the bed, stared at the ceiling for a long moment, finally feeling her back relax against the supportive softness of her mattress. She felt tired and drained, the anger taking more out of her than she ever could have guessed.

The day had been awful.

Worst of all, the more time passed by, the more she could understand about the situation that made her go supernova.

As much as it pained her to admit it, Mr. Gold did nothing wrong.

Ok, he _did_ do something wrong, but it wasn't really that bad. She was teasing him and he was teasing her back, there was nothing more to it than that. And while he played along like normal, she just had to go cray cray and turned into a frickin' party-pooper.

"_Not cool, Rubes._"

Her anger never lasted long (even though her ability to hold grudges was legendary), and now that she didn't feel the desire to kill or maim the guy anymore, her head was strangely clear.

If he had done something serious, she would have had the perfect excuse to hate him again, with the same ferocity as the rest of the inhabitants of this sleepy little backwater and then some, for daring to make her alter her original opinion of him for nothing.

But contrary to all reason, what she had seen could not be unseen anymore, for better or for worse, she had witnessed Mr. Gold in his "natural" state, no, scratch that, she had seen his most unnatural side –witnessed actual human emotions that he was, apparently, capable of after all (at least in some diminished capacity).

Her rational mind was supplying a nearly endless list of reasons why she should dislike and avoid him, a list that was probably about as long as the one of naughty children that Santa kept in that snug little cottage of his on the North Pole, because a man who took pleasure in terrorizing everyone – forcing people out of their jobs and homes, collecting rent like it was a hobby (he always looked way too happy about it) and generally being as unpleasant as it was possible; couldn't, _shouldn't _be trusted. Or liked.

Oh, but she didn't trust him. No way. She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him.

He never did anything deserving of that. And Ruby wasn't gullible or stupid, caution was one of her more defining traits (not that people bothered to look deep enough to actually notice it) and she relied on it to stay out of trouble. Or was it suspicion? Well, whatever it was, it usually worked quite well - made her a pretty decent judge of character.

That was also why she wouldn't touch that lech Whale with a ten-foot pole (actually, make that a twenty-foot one); she was able to _smell_ his intentions from a mile away. The man was about as subtle as a rhino in a green tutu and probably about as romantic. The guy wasn't that ugly, but he had none of the things she found attractive in a man, and quite a lot of those she found revolting.

Her ideal guy had to be presentable, look somewhat decent, if not very handsome, then at least _clean_ and polite enough not to try and grab her boobs on the first date. That little transgression was instant disqualification in her book.

Well, unless they guy was really attractive and managed to make her laugh during the evening. Then she might bend the rules a bit and allow limited access.

Good guys were hard to come by, so she was usually forced to settle for one that at least had _some_ of the necessary qualities.

But her relationships never got very far. They would usually end in one of several ways: a) the guy would become jealous and possessive – this she hated because nobody was the boss of her, and being somebody's "possession" was a concept that made her homicidal, not to mention that she valued her freedom a bit too much to be chained to a guy, _any_ guy; b) the guy would turn out to be a bore – she hated being bored, if the man was incapable of holding her interest, he could hit the road and never come back. Good riddance. She was just fine on her own anyways; c) the guy turned out to be sucky in bed (either sloppy or selfish, both led to the same fate); and then there was d) the guy would get intimidated by her independence or intensity and dump her to go look for a more submissive woman.

Then again, there were a couple of good specimens that she had little success with so far and suspected they were probably already involved with someone. Graham was one of them, and Ruby always made an effort to turn on her charm around him, but the handsome sheriff never showed any signs of being interested. He was perhaps gay, but that wasn't the vibe she was getting from him.

And one thing Ruby _could_ trust was her instincts.

Those very instincts that weren't going off; there were no red flags hoisted in the air when she thought about Gold.

Which was strange and unexpected to say the least. She was still suspicious, the old fox was way too devious for her to let her guard down, but that didn't mean that she would stop talking to him altogether. Besides, as weird as it may be, he could hold a conversation far better than any guy she had ever come across.

Well, to be fair, she had never been out of Storybrooke, so her options were fairly limited, but still… As crazy as it was, Gold was decent company, something she never would have even considered before. Well, decent for a laugh at least.

The next day, Ruby came back to work, apologized to Granny and everything went back to normal.

Well, everything except the delicate rapport she had established with the pawnbroker. She was waiting for him to drop by for a cup of coffee or something, but he wasn't showing.

After three days, she was starting to actually miss their bantering. Sure, she could pass the time by talking to Mary Margaret or Ashley, but they knew nothing about pies that brought forth violent tendencies or the fact that Mr. Gold buried people in the woods.

The fourth day she actually got paranoid, what if he was avoiding her? It was possible. That would make him childish, but hey, nobody really _knew_ the man. In the safety of his home, he could very well be anything (it wasn't very likely that anyone had ever even set foot into his house) which made her imagine a huge bed covered in nothing but teddy-bears. The collectable, antique ones of course. Well, about one the only things that people did know about him was the fact that he had a love (or at least an appreciation; love seemed like too strong a word) of antique and valuable things, hoarding all of the items of value that this town seemed to possess. Then she giggled slightly; no matter how avid a collector he was, teddy-bears were probably not one of his interests. She just had a hard time imagining him as the _cuddly_ type.

Nope, that definitely didn't sound like Gold.

She tried to rationalize that he couldn't avoid her forever. That would be ridiculous. Not to mention impossible - this town was small, they'd bump into each other sooner or later; the only question was how he would react.

The chances of him remaining playful like on their last encounter were slim to none. About as slim as that cane of his.

With a hint of dismay, she realized that going back to that comfortable little place was exactly what she wanted and was secretly hoping for.

But the fact he had been avoiding the diner didn't exactly leave room for optimism. He'd likely just be cold and reserved, the way he was with everyone else.

And suddenly, it felt like such a waste.

Deciding to be patient, she would wait another day before concluding that he was indeed doing this on purpose and not because he was incredibly busy.

One thing she was sure about was the fact that he had become a regular ever since that night; and now, after she threw a fit, he was suspiciously absent again. It made her draw the most likely conclusion she could; he was coming because of her.

And he was now absent for the same reason.

"_One day. One day and we'll see."_ Patience was, after all, a virtue…

* * *

******A/N: _I'd like to thank all of those that are reading this little story and telling me how much you like it! You are all amazing! :D_**

******_I apologize for the lack of Gold in this chapter, but I can assure you... The next chapter more than makes up for it!  
_**


	6. What's really on display

Ruby woke up cheerful, which was slightly unusual in its own right (she liked to laze around when possible), but she had a good feeling about today - must've gotten up on the right foot or something.

After having brushed her teeth and tamed the wild mane of black and crimson, she was in a good enough mood to do her make-up a little more elaborate than usual, drawing intricate little lines in both corners of her eyes using black eyeliner, all of it on top of a nice gradient of dark, near black shade of red, fading to a brighter color towards the inner corner of her striking hazel eyes. She always found the contrast aesthetically pleasing.

After two generous coatings of mascara and a soft brush of blush over her pale cheeks, she allowed herself an Obama face in the mirror.

"_Lookin' good, babe."_

With that, she headed to work with a slight bounce to her step.

Granny was already used to her rebellious granddaughter's love of heavy make-up, so she kept her mouth shut, even though she didn't exactly need to say anything for Ruby to read that obvious disapproving look.

But she was in a good mood today! And Granny be damned, she'd keep it that way.

With every clink of the bell, her eyes would dart to the door, a bright smile shining on her face. And every time the person coming in turned out not to be Mr. Gold, her smile lost a shade of its brilliance.

By the end of her shift, she felt a bit down, visibly disappointed. Even the tips couldn't make her feel as happy as she was when she first got up, even though today's amount was higher than average.

As much as she didn't want to get ahead of herself, it really seemed like the loan shark was avoiding her, and it was slightly infuriating.

She could picture him sitting at a secluded table, looking at her in that most disturbing way, his gold tooth glinting as he smirked…

Right now, he was probably in that crypt he called a shop, polishing the dusty, cobweb-covered trinkets that he loved so much, surrounded by more wealth than he could possibly need.

"_Well, King Tut… You can rot in your sarcophagus if you want, see if I care!"_

But the sad state of affairs was such: she did care, grudgingly as it was.

Despite being angry, the image of Tutankhamen's ridiculously ornate mask over his head, bandages dragging on his heels, was quite funny. It would be even funnier if he'd trip over them.

So, the cave dweller decided to ignore her? Two could play that game.

"_Fine by me._" Ruby thought, pouting slightly without realizing it herself.

She went into the restroom to change into her regular clothes (as much as she loved her uniform, it wasn't quite that hot outside) and with a wave to Granny, left the diner.

She didn't feel like going home yet, she had rested enough to last her a few days, and was feeling quite bored. There wasn't much to do in Storybrooke, except perhaps on Saturday nights when she'd have a girls' night out or go on a date, but the rest of the week was uneventful and dreary.

For a change of pace, she would sometimes take a stroll in the forest; there was something innately calming about the place. Shrouded by a thick canopy, the heady smell of moisture crashing against her senses, filling her nostrils with scents at the same time fresh and decaying, the damp brown earth radiating a delicate sort of warmth as the lush carpet of moss seemed to exhale a faint mist, barely visible, yet she could feel that soft breath caressing her skin. It was a safe haven of sorts; it soothed her when nothing else could.

And the strange part was that, no matter how deep she would delve into the forest, she could always find her way back. She couldn't remember ever getting lost.

The way to the forest took her next to Mr. Gold's pawnshop.

Right, he worked there most days. Not like he usually had time to waste on coffee… He would actually need to close his shop at a weird time to make it to the diner during her shift. Unless he came really early, around 7 am.

Which was actually the time at which he was at the diner the last time she saw him. But a couple of days before that, he was at the diner at times when his shop should normally be open.

How did she miss that?

It didn't even cross her mind. Weirder still, how come nobody else noticed that little detail? He was a creature of habit, and sudden uncharacteristic behavior was starting to make her even more curious. Does this mean that her theory was correct?

If he was indeed coming to the diner because of her… Not quite knowing why herself, she smirked; it was kind of flattering.

"_Whoa, slow down! What the heck was in that coffee this morning?"_

She shook her head vehemently, hoping that the violent motion would somehow shake the crazy notion out of her head. Did she honestly drop so low where she would be happy to accept attention from a conniving, smug geezer?

An impeccably dressed, funny against all odds and wealthy beyond belief geezer, but _still_… Just admitting this made her head spin.

There was _nothing_ here. She was over-analyzing things.

The only thing the guy did was crack a couple of jokes. And gave her that ridiculously huge tip. Oh, and saved her from a drunk rhino.

Did this make her an ungrateful bitch? The guy had been nothing but decent towards her and she was actually getting grossed out by the fact he might be into her.

The thought was ridiculous…

Of course he was into her! Nearly everything breathing with XY chromosomes was into her, checking her out at the very least. That was why she used her sex appeal to get tips. It was a fool-proof method, not even the rumors about her private life could botch that up! (They could actually be working in her favor, now that she thought about it.)

But hey, she was being slightly unfair here. As much as she was sure of her feminine wiles, she was by no means sure of what he was thinking or feeling. What were his preferences? Did he like his women on the younger side? Most men did, that much she knew already, but hey… There was always that one, crazy fetishist out there who was attracted to bizarre things.

Like amputee fetishists.

"_Gross, girl! Sheesh, what the hell?"_ Gold doesn't get off on that (cause that would be… deranged?) she shook her head, slapping herself on the cheek slightly. _"I swear; there's something in the water supply… Did mayor Mills finally crack from all that suppressed rage and commit murder, subsequently dumping the body into the water tank?"_

The woman certainly seemed capable of something like that. The altered chemical composition of the town's water supply would explain why everyone around her was behaving crazy. This way, Whale's assault would make more sense, Gold's violent tendencies and her brain suddenly going Chernobyl on her ass… she could certainly chalk it up to that. Suddenly everything made perfect sense, in an odd, crackpot conspiracy sort of way. If you went for that sort of thing.

Which she didn't.

"_Poisoned, hallucination inducing water? What's next? The lizard people?" _Ruby dismissed this train of thought, it was getting her nowhere.

As a matter of fact, her legs didn't seem to be getting her anywhere either.

Her heart stopped as she looked dead ahead.

The only thing in her field of vision (tunnel vision actually, the amount of focus was frightening) was a glass window. With her startled reflection in it.

Mr. Gold's frickin' pawn shop window.

A wave of warmth washed over her with a force comparable to a tsunami. How long had she been standing there like an idiot?

"_Breathe, just breathe Rubes…" _She thought frantically, her brain working overtime. What were the chances of her little brain freeze going unnoticed?

Maybe he wasn't looking at the window? Maybe he was in the back of his shop fixing something? She focused her attention through the glass to try and catch a glimpse of the man, scanning the dimly-lit interior. She wanted to move from this spot, at least get away from the window, but then her eyes found him standing behind his glass counter. Getting ready to duck and cover, Ruby attempted to regain control over her limbs when Gold looked up and their gazes locked.

"_Shit!"_ His timing couldn't have sucked more! Now there was no way to escape unscathed. At least as far as dignity was concerned. The situation called for improvisation. And it called for it _now_.

Blessing and cursing the idea at the same time, she went for the door, taking a deep breath, aware that she could be walking straight into the biggest embarrassment of her life, by her own volition no less. This had the potential to suck _so_ bad, but it had to be done. Running away at this point would make her seem childish, and she hardly needed to give him any more reason to think that; the man probably already figured it out.

But as she closed the door behind her, turning around to look at him, hoping she didn't look half as awkward as she felt, Gold's voice reached her, and if she didn't know any better, she would say the man sounded pleasantly surprised.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"

Oh God. He was clad in all black, sporting a shiny purple tie and for the first time ever, wore no suit jacket. She swallowed slightly and tried to gather her wits.

"Eh, y'know…" She tried. _"Shoot and spectacular miss!"_

This was torture.

"I'm afraid I do not." He said once she failed to respond in a timely fashion, his eyebrows arched slightly in amusement or interest - by this point who could tell?

She had no idea how to start the conversation, digging around in her brain for some engaging topic, but when that failed her, she opted for the truth. Or at least something close enough; it was the only thought in the forefront of her mind at the given moment.

"I'm sorry." She said with a sigh, her shoulders sinking a fraction. Ruby fully expected him to flashbang her with that knowing smile of his, but it seemed that he was perfectly content just watching her try to gather her thoughts. Maybe this was just another way of tormenting her.

Unable to hold her own against the calm intensity of his gaze, she looked down; trying to appear very interested in her shoes or the junk he kept on display.

"I'm sorry about last time." She did sound very apologetic, but he was still quiet. Silence wasn't his thing, so she looked up to find him somewhat perplexed, as if he had no idea what she was talking about and was simply trying not to offend her by reacting strangely.

A terrifying thought crossed her mind, what if it was all in her head? Well, that would be embarrassing!

"I got mad and stormed off… That was really… unprofessional of me."

"_Nice save!"_ She thought; instantly relieved by the speed at which her brain managed to function at times.

She waited for an answer, something along the lines of "I didn't know you scared so easily" or "anger is becoming of you, dearie"; hell, even an uninspired "it's ok" would have been fine, but it seemed Gold was determined to stay silent.

She felt weird. It was like he was intent to hear everything she had to say, nudging her into doing so by saying nothing; precipitating it with a look of (seemingly genuine) polite interest. Well, if he wasn't going to say anything, she didn't really have much choice. Well, she could always tell him something like: "Fine, don't forgive me" and storm off, but that was just… lame.

Blushing teenage girls were lame. And she was most definitely neither.

This approach wasn't working. Maybe it was time to throw caution to the wind, if it was getting her nowhere; maybe he would respond better to bluntness.

"Well, with that said… You can stop avoiding me now."

She watched him as he brought a half-clenched fist to his lips, the large ring glinting on his finger as he let out a muffled chuckle.

Now that was more like it, Ruby thought. This reaction she could work with. Feeling her mojo returning at last, she cocked an eyebrow provocatively, her perfectly painted crimson lips curling in a self-satisfied smile.

"I wasn't aware of the fact, my dear." He offered a lopsided grin, his eyes flickering mysteriously.

Oh, so he was intent on denying the facts? She had a cure for that.

"There's no need to lie to me, Mr. Gold." She flashed a toothy grin his way, perching a hand on her hip, perfectly aware of the effect this pose had on most of the male populace. She could practically feel the man undressing her with his eyes as they roamed her body. There was just no way that a straight man could look at her skin-tight jeans and almost unnecessarily deeply cut shirt and not notice the way it outlined her curves _just right_.

Now, she didn't like being objectified, but being desired… Now that was a different matter altogether.

He seemed unfazed (save for the interested look on his face) and answered coolly.

"I assume you have proof for your claims?"

Time for the big guns, Ruby concluded.

"Oh… I thought that your newfound appreciation for coffee was a pretty good indicator."

"I hadn't been over for coffee in a while, dear. A diligent young thing that you are, you surely can't have missed _that_."

She chuckled inwardly; he was using "dear" again? She must have hit close to home. He was trying to throw her off the trail, but now that she had sniffed it out, she wouldn't let him wiggle out that easily.

"I'm talking about the week before this one. Surely your memory goes back that far?"

Ruby watched his grin falter a bit, like he was hurt or confused for a moment, but the emotion disappeared like a mirage in a desert, replaced in the blink of an eye by that amused, playful expression she liked to believe he was saving for the times they bantered.

"I'm afraid my answer will disappoint you." He offered teasingly.

"Try me." She said in mock-defiance; secretly impatient to see what his devious little mind would come up with.

His tongue strayed to one of his canines, soon disappearing out of sight as his lips closed to form an appreciative smile.

"I hate to burst your bubble, my dear, but the reason why I came for my daily dose to you is because my coffee machine broke." He paused here, probably to give the information time to sink in. He watched her go pale for a second and then moved in for the kill.

"I managed to get it fixed a few days ago." He finished calmly.

Had Ruby's head been a kettle, the lid would probably be flying up now, steam whistling on all sides.

Her face was suddenly a perfect panoramic view of human discomfort, all of the subtle shades included. She panicked for a brief moment, but then latched onto a single detail of what he had just said.

"_I came for my daily dose to _you._" _

Yes, it wasn't: "I came to the diner" or "I came to Granny's", it was "I came to _you_".

They said the devil was in the details, and oh boy, were they right! This could have been a coincidence though, a mere slip of the tongue, but knowing Mr. Gold and how crafty he was with words, suddenly it didn't seem very likely. Slipping something inconspicuous, seemingly innocent into a deceptive phrase was totally like him.

"Oh, so that's the excuse you're going with?" She gave him an incredulous look, like she had all the answers.

Suddenly, she could feel a rush of warmth suffusing her every fiber as his measuring gaze wandered downward, his eyes downcast in an incredibly _wrong_ way.

"I wasn't aware that I needed an excuse."

"_Damn you Gold!"_ Why was he always so infuriatingly ambiguous? It was like he was getting his kicks from confusing people.

"You shouldn't need one… Unless you're worried about what other people might think." She offered, being a huge tease and proud of it.

Leaning forward, his arms were spread out on the glass display case to better support his weight and her eyes wandered for a moment over his nimble fingers and travelled upwards, working their way over his stylish black shirt, cinched by golden armbands right above his elbows. The garment didn't seem loose enough to warrant their use, but then again… He might be using them just to show off that he could. For the first time, she noticed that he wore a black vest over his shirt, so well incorporated into the rest of his outfit that it managed to blend in seamlessly.

"It's not my reputation you should be worried about here, darling." He enunciated every word with surgical precision, still succeeding in making the execution sound almost… artistic.

She didn't know what it was exactly that suddenly made him look attractive, but she was fairly sure that his eyes had _everything_ to do with it. There was a certain… almost _predatorial_ quality to his unwavering gaze. And that damned little word he just had to add in the end of his last sentence… While _dearie _and _dear_ were a recurring part of his repertoire, darling was a first.

An electric current jostled every last numbed nerve in her body, making her almost painfully aware of every last detail in her surroundings, from the temperature of the room to the shadows dancing on his features. Ruby felt completely awake, her muscles tense, almost as if in anticipation of a complex movement that she had always known, but somehow managed to forget over the years of neglecting its execution. Like an untamed, primal side of her nature, a vestige of a primitive ancestor perhaps, a genetic sequence long suppressed firing up in an instant; it filled her with a highly charged sort of energy, made her feel like a hunter on the prowl.

Giving into the re-awakening instinct, her body swayed nearly imperceptibly, putting the forgotten moves into place.

"What I do with my life is nobody's business but my own." She mock-scoffed, a playful exaggeration of outrage dancing on her beautiful face, interwoven intricately with a healthy dose of mischief.

With that said, she leaned against the counter into a rather compromising position, where she was lower than his eye-level, looking up into his eyes, _daring_ him to make the next move.

And sure enough, he didn't disappoint.

Gold leaned even closer, never breaking eye-contact; now so close that their breaths tickled the other's skin. She felt an overwhelming urge to look at his lips, but his eyes offered more in terms of emotions. Now, that was a book she actually wouldn't mind reading.

"It seems you haven't had enough yet… Playing with fire will eventually get you burnt."

There was something in the way he phrased it, in the way he accentuated it, a thing so dangerously irresistible it stirred something long dormant within her, rousing it from what seemed like an eternal slumber. It felt beastly, completely animalistic, nearly _monstrous _in nature… And it seemed hungry.

It seemed positively_…ravenous._

"I'm not afraid of fire…" She breathed his way, her eyes finally drifting to his lips, soaking up the slight tremble she found there as his lips parted.

"You should be careful, dearie. The way you're behaving could be heavily misinterpreted."

"How exactly?" She teased, openly flirtatious.

"From where I'm standing… It looks like you're offering yourself to me."

Of all the things in the world… He had to go ahead and say this.

Like a spell breaking, Ruby flushed bright red, retreating at once, nearly jumping away from the counter, looking very much like she had burnt herself. All of her boldness seemed to burst like a soap bubble, leaving her feeling uncomfortably exposed without her brass to take the brunt of his verbal attacks.

Her shield gone, the vixen had been stripped away, leaving behind an inept, startled doe.

"I'm not!" Ruby got defensive at once, trying to salvage what little there was left of her pride.

Gold smirked and straightened slowly, unhooking his cane from the counter to support himself better.

"Now that that has been settled, would you care to tell me why you decided to visit in the first place?"

This seemed way too easy. It's like he had _planned_ for all of this to happen. But that would be ridiculous. Nobody was that good. Or at least, nobody should be _allowed_ to be that good. That would make such a person a highly dangerous existence.

What if he really was as dangerous as everyone believed? Would that make her a fool?

That would make him an A-class swindler.

But there was a different perspective opening before her, offered on a silver platter.

He was giving her a way out.

What would that make him then?

Confused as hell, she stuck her hands into the pockets of her jeans, pondering for a moment what to say to the guy.

"What did you want, dearie?"

That made her frown and look up.

"I guess I just wanted things… to go back to the way they were before." She finished with resignation. Hesitantly, she approached him and extended her hand (if he couldn't recognize an olive branch when he saw one, she would make sure to put rat poison in his next order) and said in a soft, expectant sort of voice: "Friends?"

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Gold eyed her carefully.

"_Fuck you, you smug old bastard… You know exactly what I wanted."_

With a heavy sigh, she weighed her options. Compromise was the key. He was a man of deals, after all.

"You know what? Could we just go back to what we had before? Whatever that was…" She maintained eye-contact 'till about half-way through, chickening out at the last second, mumbling that last bit under her breath. She hoped he would be gracious about it, but it seemed like he had other plans.

"And what would that be, exactly?" He asked for an explanation, looking as innocent as a newborn, which only served to assure her it was an act as fake as Pamela Anderson's boobs.

She really wanted to give him a smart answer, but had no strength left for mental sparring. He would just have to make do with the truth this time.

"Well… y'know. Joking? Over pie and stuff. That sort of thing."

He seemed lost in thought for a moment, as if he was pondering what to do next, which string to pull, seeming a bit deflated as he said in his unmistakable "we're-done-here" tone:

"Very well."

Ruby's hand was still outstretched, but Gold wasn't taking it. It seemed like he would need some additional persuading. Allowing some of her usual flair to creep into her voice, she moved her hand his way once more: "Truce?"

The rigid lines on the pawnbroker's face seemed to soften as he shook her hand.

"Deal."

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**A/N: _I promised_ _you lots of Mr. Gold and I hope I didn't disappoint! ;P_  
**

**_This chapter was initially meant to be an innocent reunion sort of story (with lots of teasing from Mr. Gold) and Ruby was supposed to be flustered and sweet, but these two had other plans... They successfully bamboozled me into ... this. I had to work really hard to stop them from making this fic go smut ahead of its time! XD I swear, they have minds of their own..._**

**_Reviews are love! :D Thank you for reading!  
_**


	7. These woods aren't safe, Little Red

**_A/N_ : I hate to add text before the actual chapter, but I felt it necessary, in the light of recent events. This chapter was written about a week before I found out about OUAT creators explaining when Mr. Gold actually got his memories back (and that was when he first saw Emma in Granny's B&B at the end of episode 1), which makes no sense when compared to my head-canon. I initially planned to stick to canon as much as possible, bending the situations so that they work for my story without actually changing any of the facts, but that would ruin the idea behind this chapter completely, as well as the rest of the story I have planned ahead.  
**

**You see, this fic is happening _before_ Emma actually got to Storybrooke. Now you see my pain. *sigh* **

**So, I apologize to any of my readers for this breach of canon, but I must stand by my work and develop it in the way I find is best for the story itself. I just wanted to write things from my own perspective and I hope that you will find it enjoyable enough to disregard the breach of canon I was forced to make.  
**

**Sorry for the inconvenience and I hope you like Mr. Gold's POV! (I'd really like to hear what you think about it!) :D  
**

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Mr. Gold stared at the door for a good long time after her slender back was turned to him and disappeared from sight.

The girl might not have remembered her previous life, but she seemed wonderfully unaffected by the curse, her original personality seeping through that deliciously inappropriate veneer of hers.

"_You should be more careful, Little Red…These woods aren't safe._" He mused, carefully cataloguing every detail of their most recent encounter.

First, he caught a glimpse of something red out of the corner of his eye, a figure dawdling unusually long on his doorstep, something nobody wished or dared to do under normal circumstances. Admittedly, he was slightly surprised to find the feisty waitress looking at him.

His deal-making instincts flared up instantly as he wondered if she was here to make a purchase; a birthday gift for one of her bland friends, or for a new romantic interest perhaps? But then he noticed hesitation on her face, like she was debating fight or flight in that pretty little head of hers. Ruby looked like she was steeling herself before finally making up her mind.

Her approach was hesitant, almost clumsy. The cogs in his head were turning as he was trying to identify the emotion displayed on her face, attempting to find its place on a mental diagram of human despair he usually used when dealing with lost souls. In this case, hers seemed to range from embarrassment to discomfort – which, to his satisfaction, excluded the possibility of a mundane transaction, leaning precariously towards uncharted, albeit possibly very intriguing territories.

She seemed to have no idea why she came here in the first place. And suddenly this situation held tremendous potential to play out in an amusing fashion and he found himself feeling oddly titillated at the prospect.

Well, if it was his attention that she desired, she now had it.

No point in wasting time, he thought, the girl might decide to leave yet and then this unexpected opportunity would be wasted. And letting opportunities slip through his fingers when they presented themselves to him on a silver platter was not how he managed to get this far. In case the poor, desperate souls seemed reluctant, there were always methods he could use to sway them to go in the direction he wanted them to; push them over the edge, so to speak.

He went for an approach of professional courtesy and it worked just like he had expected it to. If there had been a shadow of a doubt concerning her purpose before, it made itself quite clear that_ he_ was the only reason why her legs managed to find their way here, of all places.

She seemed adorably flustered, shying away from his gaze and pretending to check out his wares. By this point, it was a tad too late for play pretend, he giggled on the inside, giving Rumple room to enjoy his impish self some, feeling his interest levels spiking by the minute. He would allow himself a moment to enjoy.

The poor thing seemed stumped and then resigned all of a sudden as truth finally spilled from her mouth.

"_I'm sorry." _

That was certainly an unexpected answer. The implications it left in its wake were quite… interesting.

Her anger had been understandable, if not entirely adorable as well, but her apologetic attitude left him slightly stymied. This would suggest that she felt bad about what had transpired, possibly even, dare he think, _missed_ their little rapport?

This required further examination.

In the many years he had been perfecting his trade, he knew instinctively what were the best ways to approach differently motivated people, and right now, his instincts pushed for patience. Silence could be as persuasive as any action, except it was much more subtle. It left the other party convinced that they had the upper hand (as much as it was possible when dealing with him, of course).

He watched her dance right into his hands, presenting the honest truth bare before him, like a most delectable offering. Knowledge was power, in this world or the previous one, and more power meant staying ahead of that pesky regal fashionista. Her Majesty was hell-bent on undermining his authority at every turn, pity she usually seemed to forgo long-term planning in favour of instant gratification of her jealous and often most violent outbursts. It was a good thing then that Regina didn't yet seem to remember who she really was. It seems that appeasing her with a child all those years ago served for more than the initial purpose.

He simply loved deals like that.

Oh, but thinking of the Queen at a moment like this, what a tragic loss of time that was when he had someone infinitely more interesting in his presence, the little cub looking uncharacteristically lost and uncomfortable. Seeing this side of the powerful Huntress was priceless. Whatever the deal here, he was getting the better side of it for sure.

So wrapped up he was in her bashfulness that her next words took him completely by surprise.

"_You can stop avoiding me now."_

He genuinely stood by what he said to her at the Sheriff's station two weeks ago, the girl was smart, maybe even too much for her own good. He was suddenly very glad that this delightful woman managed to fly under the Evil Queen's radar. Snow being the fairest in the land? Rubbish! She was third, at best.

Laughter came naturally; he didn't even have to draw from his flamboyant side to make it believable. Of all the broken-spirited people in this cursed little town, her own spirit seemed nearly intact and it pleased him to no end. Red was a fascinating creature, but she had never been desperate enough to seek him out, so their interaction had been virtually non-existent. Pity.

This was about as close as he would ever get to her.

Not too long now, and all of the plans he had been putting in place for years; working in the shadows as he pulled strings on all sides, weaving an intricate web of equal parts deception and promises, would soon be set in motion.

And when the time came, Ruby would be her old self once more.

Once the curse was broken, she would likely hate and mistrust him again, as was the natural order of things. He had to admit, that was a bit of a waste.

So, why not grab the opportunity as it presented itself?

He feigned ignorance but wasn't terribly surprised when she called him out on it. The girl standing before him was fire incarnate, capable of flickering deceptively low only to spring back to life the very next moment, blazing into the sky like a bonfire, singeing anything unfortunate enough to be drawn to the warmth and playfulness of her flames. But he was no moth, and she had no idea who she was dealing with, which meant that the advantage rested safely in his hands. _Oh, pet… What is it you want, hmm?_

So, she was observant enough to notice his little trips to the diner as of late? This actually worked in his favour; he couldn't have made a scenario that convincing even if he had come up with all of the details himself.

Playing with her proved too amusing to stop, so he indulged in it shamelessly. There would be plenty of time for business later, if it came down to it.

And she seemed like she wasn't opposed to the idea either, coming up with the most amusing answers which only seemed to challenge his imagination further, forcing his hand deeper into his bag of magic tricks.

This was as good a time as any to give her a slight push and test her limits.

He almost felt sorry for the girl as he told her the bit about getting his coffee machine fixed; she seemed at a complete loss, feeling self-conscious at once, her face changing colors faster than a traffic light. All he had to do now was wait.

Wait and see just how far her instincts would take her.

He took no small amount of pleasure from seeing her squirm before him, but then a shadow of insight flashed across her face. So, she had an idea? _Marvelous!_

"_Oh, so that's the excuse you're going with?"_

The scared little dove was gone, replaced by a sly minx. The girl might have not been entirely aware of whom she was dealing with, but she seemed _very_ aware of the cards she'd been dealt, playing them oh so well.

She seemed determined to use her charms to their utmost limit, probably hoping to get him flustered like one of the weaker sods she was used to dealing with and twisting them around her crimson-painted little finger. Needless to say, he was more than willing to throw a wrench into this charmingly naïve plan of hers.

Ambiguous statements had multiple uses, from obfuscation to misdirection, and everything in-between. Let the games begin.

Her answer exceeded his expectations when she managed to turn the tables without even breaking a sweat.

"_You shouldn't need an excuse… Unless you're worried about what other people might think."_

Gold didn't care much about opinions of others as long as his painstakingly earned reputation wasn't in question. It was a well-rehearsed dance, intricate in composition and theatrical in execution. A well-established routine he could slip into comfortably, it still fit him as perfectly as his black leather gloves did. Now, this world's leather was no dragon hide, but a man has got to work with what he's got.

No, this really wasn't as much about him as it was about this unsuspecting creature.

Both of her names fit her so well, the EverAfter one as well as its mundane counterpart, even though he didn't associate it with the superficial reason everyone else seemed to content themselves with. Little Red's cloak, Ruby's crimson-accentuated ensembles, they were mere traces of her true self bubbling to the surface. As innately and inseparably defining as they might be, her true essence was sadly, still suppressed.

And yet, here she was, her mesmerizing hazel eyes alight in a way he had rarely had the opportunity to see – the girl was sizing him up. Actually, what was the expression used nowadays… checking him out, was it?

For all his restraint and cautious nature, there was about nothing (save a rude interruption) that could make him stop what has been set in motion.

Ruby was a flirty young thing; that was well known. He chuckled inwardly as he thought about the irony. Her instincts, her very nature had been denied their usual venue of fulfillment in this world and the curse seemed to be forcing the girl into finding a new method of… release.

But like in the old world, she certainly had choices aplenty; coming to him should be her last recourse.

And yet, here she was, looking almost thirsty for blood, _his_ blood of all things. He managed to squash the urge to let out a manic, high-pitch giggle. Alas, Rumplestilstkin's theatrics weren't appreciated in this world. While they worked wonders at home, plunging entire villages into a state of chaos, sending mothers and children scurrying for safety, attempting the same here, however, would most surely just serve to ruin his serious, quietly intimidating image.

This world was considerably less fun when business was concerned. His wonderful displays of madness would only get him committed here. He had no doubt about that; Storybrooke's inhabitants would just _love_ to find an excuse to get rid of him, and in this world he couldn't remove minor annoyances with a snap of his fingers… A most frustrating fact, that.

Though, to be fair, even if he did manage to "snap" one day, it was a good thing that there were no mental institutions in town.

And even if there were, he could always bribe his way out of a tight spot. He wasn't _that_ out of touch yet. But back to the issue at hand.

Ruby was still looking at him with a flicker of hunger in her bright eyes. It was not like Red to pick fights she couldn't win. Even monsters in the throes of rage could still gauge the difference in power when presented with a mighty foe.

Everybody had a choice; he would just have to make sure that she knew _exactly_ what she was getting herself into.

Oh, he wasn't doing this for altruistic reasons, far from it. There was much that could be gained from their little relationship, and he only wanted to measure the extent of the benefits. He already knew the cost would be minimal.

Not that she needed to know that.

She approached him slowly, deliberately; swaying sensuously as a flame flickered in her irises.

He decided it was safe to use the comparison freely; the chances of her realising he was talking about her were negligible.

"… Playing with fire will eventually get you burnt."

Not only did she say she was unafraid, she also showed it when her face inched closer, her eyes straying to look someplace where they really shouldn't…

If he didn't know any better, he would say that the audacious waitress was actually thinking of kissing him…

Now, that was a ridiculous notion.

She was probably just toying with him the way she toyed with everyone else; it wasn't malicious of course, but rather just who she was. It was possible that the girl wasn't even fully aware of it.

For some reason, that left him feeling somewhat…disappointed.

For all of his experience and tricks, he couldn't help but feel a bit flattered. A woman as beautiful as Ruby showing interest in a man everyone else perceived as no more than a vicious loan shark, giving him glances that would make even the most composed of men go weak in the knees…

Let's just say that Gold wasn't exactly used to such a thing.

But neither would he allow himself to be played by her, no matter how crafty or enticing she was.

Which meant that he now faced a dilemma. There were several choices he could make, different paths which would lead to varying consequences.

He could take the matter into his own hands right here and now; take what she seemed to be offering willingly, but there were several unfortunate outcomes he was aware of: first off, she could take offense and strike him (this scenario still had potential to progress into a desirable situation); secondly, she could snap out of her lust-induced haze and run away for good.

The third possibility was the most entertaining, but also the least likely to come to pass. Just the thought of Little Red decadently sprawled over his display case made a pleasant tingle cascade down his spine.

No, she was getting to him. This option was far too dangerous to pursue.

An alternative course of action was to do the opposite, to spurn her advances and shame her in the process. That would certainly put quite a dent in her womanly pride, and seeing her flustered once more was a very tempting prospect. His inner imp seemed positively gleeful at the idea. Sometimes even he would get surprised at how childish the Dark One could be, despite the unmistakable undercurrent which enjoyed the sight of other people's discomfort.

No matter how tempting, this approach would likely ruin the fragile balance they managed to attain through some strange twist of fate. And he would rather be able to tease her over prolonged periods of time, rather than indulge just this once.

Option number three was the most acceptable if preserving what they had was what he was going for.

And that consisted in doing absolutely nothing.

To be more precise, it entailed doing no more and no less than he had already been doing – teasing her from a comfortable distance.

And the current lack thereof was most certainly pleasant.

This would be a perfect test for Little Red. Everybody had a choice, and he wasn't about to take it from her when it offered so much in turn…

He would leave her hanging above a precipice, with only two options.

She could either give in to her urges and scratch that annoying little itch he seemed to be evoking within her, or she would choose what was good for her and go back to the safety of an entire town full of oblivious fools who couldn't even remember who they were or fully appreciate all that she was even though they were allowed limitless amounts of time to be in her presence.

And then he spoke them, the words which would determine both of their fates:

"From where I'm standing… It looks like you're offering yourself to me."

He waited patiently for her answer, in the manner of a spider crouched in the corner of his expansive web.

She blushed fiercely, and immediately retreated.

He had his answer. She chose wisely.

He slipped on his mask of ice once more, giving her one final push out of the door.

"Now that that has been settled, would you care to tell me why you decided to visit in the first place?"

She wasn't moving. Or talking.

It was like her mind froze all of a sudden. Well, of course it did; the girl had no idea why she came here in the first place. Suddenly he felt like he was being unnecessarily cruel to her.

But it had to be done.

After he had rephrased the request, he fully expected her to get angry over her inability to compose a satisfying answer and run away. But it seemed like this woman was destined to keep surprising him.

Then she made it quite clear that she wasn't about to sever all of their (admittedly flimsy) ties as she extended her hand and asked the most unlikely of things – to be his friend.

Rumplestiltskin having friends? There was something seriously wrong with that image.

It was bad for business, that was.

And quite possibly for his sanity, as well.

Maybe she didn't even think those words through before she spoke them aloud. He'd have to make sure.

"Are you sure that's what you want?"He asked her, suspicion taking root in his flesh, creeping up on him like weeds.

She seemed frustrated and for the first time this afternoon, he had no idea what to make of her reaction.

When she finally spoke, he saw his third scenario playing out perfectly, despite the fact he had abandoned it half-way through. Life has a strange way of working things out with no help of those involved.

She seemed abashed as she made her request. He still had a hard time wrapping his head around this.

_She wants this? _Could it be a trick? Women were prone to deceit, especially the beautiful ones.

He had to ask. He just had to know that he heard it right.

Fully expecting her to take it the wrong way (actually, the only way anyone took his words – as traps) she sighed deeply and spoke what seemed to be the pure, unembellished truth: She didn't want their little dance to end.

Unsure of how to react, he stopped for a moment. Of all people, of all the courageous princes and cunning warlords, it took a little wolf cub to make him admit defeat.

"Very well." Gold acquiesced.

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he failed to notice the soft, slender arm still pointed his way.

"_Truce?"_ She offered tentatively, and he focused on the hopeful twinkle in her eyes.

If that was what she wanted, he saw no reason to refuse. He could always use some company or a person he could find a use for later, without the need to bribe or threaten them.

Allowing himself a moment of satisfaction over fate's occasional graces, he took her hand, squeezing it firmly without being rough.

"Deal."

She smiled sincerely and added one last thing before departing:

"That slice of pie will be waiting for you."

He laughed in spite of himself and answered teasingly:

"The next time I order one, you better have Whale bothering you again…"

Her confusion was sweet, but he had more to say.

"Or I might use those violent tendencies on the one who forced me to eat it in the first place."

She almost doubled over, her laughter ringing delightfully as it bounced off of all the glass surfaces in his shop.

Then she looked at him mischievously, perching a hand on her hip and decided it was safe to try and tease him again.

"My, my Mr. Gold… I didn't know you were into that sort of thing."

He could have found a decent answer to this, but chose not to. No point in revealing such a valuable secret at this time. Women liked men shrouded in mystery, so why spoil her fun?

"I will drop by when I find the time. Have a nice day, my dear."

If there ever was a clear dismissal, he hoped Ruby would know it.

And it seemed so, for she just shook her head, as if she was reprimanding him, scolding him for being a naughty child and after saying: "You too, Mr. Gold. Try not to bankrupt anyone else today" she left, leaving him in the darkness to chuckle quietly.

All in all, this had been quite an informative evening.


	8. Who's your Granny?

Ruby was still dazed as her legs followed the road home on auto-pilot, all thoughts of the stroll through the forest wiped clean from her mind.

It was a lot to take in and she could feel her brain over-heating as it struggled to process the overwhelming amount of information. Suddenly she had no idea what happened in there. One moment, she was completely zoned out, and the next, they were having eye-sex. She swallowed, her throat feeling uncomfortably constricted.

Any sort of sex with the scheming bastard was too freaky to contemplate.

So why would she, in the name of all that was good and holy (as well as evil and unholy), be thinking of the man that way? Until she saw him leaning so suggestively over that stupid display case of his (Mr. Gold on display, gasp, heck no!) the thought hadn't even crossed her mind.

To be perfectly honest, even after all of that, her thoughts didn't immediately swerve in that direction.

So, what the hell happened there? From being embarrassingly confused, he managed to get her to nearly…

No way. She would entertain the thought no further! This was quite enough.

But her mind was spinning in vicious circles, and wouldn't allow her to store the memories away neatly, thus giving her a chance to dismiss them at last. No, it seemed quite determined to sabotage all of her attempts to sweep them under the rug, even when she tried to, there was always something sticking out – like Mr. Gold's leg.

What was it that happened in there? She felt like someone had gone and put her brain into a blender. That would certainly explain why her head was a complete mess. There was just no way she would be able to make sense of these garbled fragments of feelings and memories that lay scattered on the bottom of her psyche, littering the surface like broken glass. Taking a walk over all of that was not a good idea at the moment.

Especially because she felt like she would be forced to do it barefoot.

Ok, so analyzing this was impossible right now. What other options were there? Ignoring it? That wasn't likely to help. She wasn't even sure if it was possible, to be perfectly honest. The guy managed to slither his way into her subconscious mind so quietly that she didn't even register the intrusion until it was too late. But why would he do that? What could he possibly gain from it, aside from perhaps getting his kicks from torturing her?

Somehow, she wouldn't put it past him. Gold might not be the epitome of evil and greed as everyone liked to believe, but that didn't mean that those traits were all of a sudden miraculously absent from his character. A leopard doesn't change its spots.

Well, that was a silly thought! It was true, of course, but the only feline quality he possessed was cunning and a complete disregard for other people's comfort as long as his own needs were met. Oh, and a creepy sort of grace, sort of like a trained assassin that can slit your throat while you sleep.

"_Mr. Gold's a ninja…"_

That made her giggle. Indeed, the man had a distinct preference for dark colored suits, and possessed a talent for showing up at places nobody expected to find him.

"_Ok, ok… That doesn't make him a ninja. That just makes him creepy." _

And that he truly was. He could try and camouflage it with expensive suits, fancy ties and sweet words, but nothing he did could hide what he really was beneath that carefully constructed façade.

But what was he really, underneath all of that? She had a feeling that nobody in the whole of Storybrooke had the answer to that question. And if anyone ever managed to find out, she was pretty sure Mr. Gold would find a way to make them disappear.

"_Curiosity killed the cat…" _ That little proverb was as true as they came, but no amount of warnings could stop her from finding something out when she really put her mind to it.

If there was one thing Ruby was good at, it was pursuing and getting what she wanted. And right now, she wanted to know.

That would require getting close to him without actually ending too tangled up with the guy in the process. The idea was simple enough, but pulling it off posed a problem – the man didn't actually want anyone to know. Why else would he alienate himself from the rest of the world, why else would he contend himself with solitude and settle for the sort of happiness provided by being surrounded by nothing but dusty old junk day in and day out, for the rest of his life?

That made her think. There was something else here. Nobody is just born that way, something must have happened to make him like this.

Just like Granny's overbearing attitude made Ruby burn all of the frilly dresses the woman was continuously trying to make her wear when she was younger (and didn't know any better); the bonfire she made on the front lawn when she was twelve still made her laugh. She didn't know if Granny was more embarrassed about her public rebellion or about the cost of the bottle of gin Ruby had used to make the offending clothes burn easier.

So, who was his Granny?

Usually the people who screwed you up were the ones closest to you as you were growing up, mostly parents or something. An abusive alcoholic for a father would do, as cliché as that was. Messed up marriages tended to produce messed up kids, you didn't exactly need to be a genius to figure that one out. Did his dad beat him? That could explain why he didn't like people – she reckoned it was kinda hard to trust someone when your own flesh and blood was capable of doing something like that.

Speaking of abuse and injuries, she suddenly got very curious. How _did_ he get that leg wound? It seemed like he had it for as long as anyone could remember, but, curiously enough, she couldn't recall anyone gossiping about the reasons behind his limp.

Which was weird. That bad leg was about the only weakness of his that any of them knew about. You'd think that would make people curious.

Guess not.

They were probably too terrified that Gold would knock their teeth in with the handle of his cane if he ever caught them discussing it. Either that, or really nobody knew.

Which was entirely possible. It's not like he ever gave anyone reason to care enough about him to ask.

And that seemed kind of sad. The man was a bastard, no doubt about that, but even so… having literally _no one_ around to spend time with… That must suck.

Then again, he seemed like a lone wolf. He never seemed sad or upset about being on his own, almost the opposite. He gave off that "I-don't-need-you" kind of vibe, but was it because he really needed no one, or because he was unable to approach people? Suddenly things made more sense… He wasn't just a lone wolf, he was more like… the Big Bad Wolf.

And people don't come to the resident monster unless it's to hunt it down.

So, about the only way he could actually achieve any sort of normal human contact would be to step out of his cave and actually do something besides snarling in the shadows. Which was about the only thing he could do well.

Ok, strictly speaking, that wasn't true… There were a lot of things he was good at. Most of them included many refined techniques used to terrorize the people in his debt (and there were many of those). People never learned, did they? Everyone knew how dangerous it was to deal with Mr. Gold, and yet they all did it anyways. And they kept on doing it, despite having seen plenty of terrifying outcomes of those deals of his. She didn't know if they were really that desperate or just plain stupid.

It was probably both, even though she was inclined towards the latter.

He obviously had a good nose for business. Even though the nose itself wasn't all that interesting. Now, his eyes… Those were intriguing. He wasn't handsome in the classical sense, and she wouldn't normally even notice him (no more than she would notice a freshly painted postbox by the side of the road) but now, when she had the opportunity to see _a lot _of him, far more than she would have ever thought possible, she could see something in him.

It was hidden quite well, and she wasn't thinking about his motives either; he had that certain _something_ that was crucial for a man to have. An inner sort of force, a magnetic pull, if you will. She didn't know what it was exactly, but it made him attractive. Not in a cheesy "sculpted-Greek-god" way, but in a slightly dark, dangerous sort of way. There was something twisted about him, but instead of being grossed out or scared by it, she found herself oddly drawn to it.

Suddenly, her thoughts strayed back to the times when he told her she shouldn't play with fire – that was a warning, but also a clear indication that he thought himself dangerous. Somehow, that gave rise to a playful sort of defiance within her. _"So, you think you'll burn me? We'll see about that." _

He seemed very sure of himself, and whenever Ruby was presented with a man who had an inflated ego, she had an irresistible urge to pierce it with a sharp nail. Yet somehow, he didn't seem like the kind of man who would be groundlessly confident, just the opposite – he knew exactly what he could do, and had no problems with showing the rest of the world that he could do it well.

Ruby felt a rush of warmth suffusing her cheeks, spreading to the rest of her face as images of what else he was good at flooded her mind. _"Ugh, not good…_" She whimpered inwardly; these kinds of thoughts should be illegal. If nothing else, then because they could get her killed.

In more ways than one, actually – either by not paying attention and getting hit by a car, or by Granny finding out that she has the hots for the town's most hated antiques dealer.

Or by Mr. Gold showing up at the diner late at night, right before closing time, demanding to be served while clambering up the stairs, hooking the handle of his cane on the door so she wouldn't be able to slam it into his face, forcing his way in and then scolding her for trying to refuse him, no doubt using a phrase along the lines of "The customer is always right, dearie" to break her resistance, then locking the door behind him, cutting off her escape route…

"_Ok, stop it! Enough!"_ Ruby took her head into her hands, exhaling sharply.

"_Oh my God! I'm not just crazy, I'm bat shit insane! I should get Dr. Hopper to prescribe me something…"_

She quickened her pace, hoping that nobody was watching her in this extremely embarrassing state, spinning wildly out of control. What she needed now was to get home as fast as possible and do the one thing no man had ever managed to make her go through before.

Take a cold shower.

* * *

**A/N:** **All right, dearies! I hope you enjoyed this short chapter, the next one is a treat, but you'll have to be patient for an update (sadly), because real life is catching up to me and I will be away for a couple of days. I hope this will tide you over until then! **

**Oh! Before I forget, a big thank you for all the wonderful reviews, they make me want to do even better! I love reading your thoughts, and if anyone has an interesting idea, do not hesitate to share! :D  
**

**Also, I made an illustration for this story! The link can be found on my profile, so if you're a Golby fan, make sure to check it out! ;P  
**


	9. Loving you is cherry pie

Ruby was wiping the tables routinely, feeling extremely bored in the process. She had to find a way to kill the remaining twenty minutes until closing time and was slowly running out of things to occupy herself with. But it seemed like time itself had chosen here and now, of all places, to grab a lunch break or something, seconds trickling by so infuriatingly slow, like someone bribed or threatened it into driving her insane. Oh, to Hell with it, she would just close early; there was no one inside but her, all of the customers probably already in their beds. The only person who made a habit of dropping by this late was Leroy (the man was a bachelor and she suspected that he couldn't boil an egg even if you pointed a gun at his head). His absence meant that he either managed to get a treat from one of his friends, or that he tried to take a piss on Regina's hedges again, and was likely spending a cozy evening in jail.

Ruby stifled a yawn as she looked at the clock, wondering if Granny would be very pissed in case she decided to close early. Well, what she doesn't know can't hurt her, right?

A sudden clink made her turn to the door, already willing to curse the person who dared come this late, giving her extra work just when she was about to lock up.

She felt a breath die in her throat as the customer walked in.

Even if she hadn't seen him, she would have frozen all the same upon hearing the unmistakable clacking of his cane across the floor.

"I was about to close the diner." She managed to say, painfully aware of how startled she looked. _"He's not here to hurt you, idiot. Now do your job" _she thought, slightly angry with herself.

"I best be quick about it, then." He offered with a serious face, and she watched his dignified gait in silence until he sat down at the table she was most used to seeing him occupy.

"The kitchen is closed, Mr. Gold, but there's some pie left over if you'd like." She stated, trying to appear helpful, but her fatigue probably over-shadowed it.

Whether he noticed it or not, she had no idea, because he didn't show it. Not even a slight smile, no twinkle in his eye, nothing to indicate any sort of emotional response. He either wasn't feeling inspired, or had one hell of a poker face.

"Do you have cherry pie?" He asked while setting his cane to rest next to him, appearing almost like he didn't even care that she was there.

Ruby tried to sift through the mental catalogue of today's leftovers, her eyes turning upwards sharply, as if the answer hung suspended from the ceiling. "I think there are a couple of slices left…" She concluded.

"All right, then. I'll have one." Gold nodded, his voice as flat as a board.

There was something strange about this, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Perhaps he was just tired and not in the mood for chit-chat. She felt the same up until a minute ago, but now found herself strangely engaged in doing what she was paid for, her voice returning to its usual cheerfulness as she exclaimed brightly: "Ok, coming right up!"

She was back by his table in a flash, his slice of cherry pie resting before him. She barely registered when he thanked her for it, and it all felt really silly all of a sudden. Instead of replying "you're welcome" automatically, she found herself just standing there, looking at him, or through him, for she wasn't actually concentrating on anything in particular. She felt drowsy and unfocused, biting her lip absent-mindedly as her thoughts swirled and looped together, impossible to make sense of. Like the infinity symbol, she was momentarily stuck in the same place, her mind walking around in circles, unable to find an exit. It felt like she was lost in a labyrinth – the kind David Bowie had control of – all smooth tiles that shifted around if she tried to mark where she had been going and walls which rebuilt themselves behind her, cutting off her escape to push her forward, but the way forward was as elusive as the rest of the damned puzzle and she would always end up finding her way to the place she started off from. It was maddening.

"Would you sit with me?" Gold's voice penetrated the overgrown hedges of the labyrinth she was lost in, his voice burning a hole in one of the thick bushes, the fringes of the hole curling about like a burning photograph, until all of the mystical landscape dissolved into the orange light of the diner, and the only thing drawing her attention were his beckoning eyes. He seemed not to notice her lack of response and reality gave her a nudge – she was supposed to answer the man. What did he want in the first place?

Oh, he asked her to sit with him. The last time someone requested that, he ended up beaten with a cane.

"Why? " She asked, not sure whether she should be suspicious or curious.

"It was merely a suggestion. " Gold shrugged, seemingly resigned.

"Nuh uh, it was also a question. " Ruby knew he was evasive and wouldn't allow it this time. Gold was probably used to getting whatever he wanted and judging by the state this town was in, it was a fact, not conjecture. Well, she wasn't an antique clock or a vintage china set, so if he wanted something from her, he better be willing to work for it until she was satisfied.

Gold seemed unsurprised by her relentlessness and appeared deep in thought, his eyes never straying from hers as he opened his thin lips to speak; his deep, smooth voice coming out almost as a grumble: „Fine."

He must have been weighing his options, and she had a nagging feeling that he didn't really know what to say, probably for the first time in his life. Still, she expected him to come up with a way out, and was quite surprised when he rose from his seat, spreading his hands in an exaggerated flourish, like a throw-back to a really old movie, one of those without color and quite possibly devoid of sound as well.

Except he spoke.

„May I have the honour of your company? "

He seemed strangely pleased with his whimsical gesture, Ruby mused, his eyes alight with something undoubtedly inappropriate, but his antics succeeded in softening her somewhat, which was probably exactly why he decided to pull this off in the first place.

"I see what you did there. " She muttered aloud, actually unbothered by the fact that her mouth ran ahead of her brain, as usual. She squinted at him, hoping he would at least feel a small measure of discomfort at the realization that she couldn't be swayed. But he just kept smiling instead. It wasn't one of his intimidating or infuriating little smirks, it was something else. Something she couldn't place.

Realizing all of a sudden that all this standing around would likely extend her stay in the diner (she still needed to go back to Granny's to sleep, and explaining to the old bat why she was late would be no fun and while her outings were generally tolerated during the weekend, the ones on a work day weren't). Wondering if this was a good idea (suddenly aware that it probably wasn't), curiosity got the better of her, so she accepted his proposition grudgingly: „All right. I think I can spare a minute." She finished haughtily, hoping he would understand that she was doing him a favor, and not the other way around.

She sat down on the seat across from him, looking at his content smile, his eyes now fixed on the food in front of him, like he didn't even care that he got what he wanted. And that made her really displeased. He was probably messing with her again.

"Why did you come this late?" She asked as she propped her chin in the palms of her hands, both of her elbows resting on the table.

"I was busy."

"Busy with what? Dusting off old clocks?" His excuse was so damn transparent that she couldn't help some incredulity slip into her voice.

"Something like that." He smirked for but a moment, allowing himself a long glance her way.

"For all your money, you could just hire someone to clean the place for you." Ruby concluded sensibly. Hell, he could probably hire a battalion of men and still have enough money to live out the rest of his day comfortably, probably even if he lit his cigars with hundred-dollar bills on a daily basis.

"True, but then again, some clumsy girl... or boy, could end up breaking priceless objects, and I don't think I'd be able to afford _that_." He finished, breaking eye contact to take a bite of his pie.

"Oh? I never really saw you as a man who could see the sentimental value of anything."

"Oh, but dear... Sentimental value is what people are willing to pay the most for." He explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Ruby stopped to think for a moment, letting one of her hands drop to the table while the other still held up her chin. She never put much thought in it, to be perfectly honest. Yet the only thing she had to say was a rather muffled: "Hmm..." as her gaze went to him, through him even, looking into something far out of reach. He must have taken her silence for confusion, because he continued to explain.

"You see, people attribute value to an object, the object in question, therefore, becomes as valuable as they think it is. It's quite simple really."

"That sounds like a mind trick. I guess that's how you manage to swindle everyone…" She arched one of her meticulously shaped eyebrows and gave him a crooked smile. This would probably come across as a silent approval of his methods.

Which it wasn't.

Gold let out a stifled giggle and admitted: "More or less" his nose wrinkling in an entirely fetching way.

"_Fetching? Where the hell did I pull that out from?"_ That sounded like a snobbish word he would use, definitely not something that should be in her vocabulary.

But the way his nose wrinkled, one of his canines showing through the grin he flashed her way; the sight made her shiver involuntarily. She was suddenly uncomfortably warm, in places that should never, ever be warm in the presence of a soul-sucking demon capable of smelling fear and discomfort a mile away.

Make that hundreds of miles away.

The conversation needed steering in another direction. Any direction would do, as long as it would make these unsettling sensations stop. She decided to wing it.

She was pretty good at that.

"Why did you order cherry pie?"

He chuckled, his grin suddenly taking up more of his face. „Of all the things you could have asked me, you chose that? "

"Yes. " She answered simply. _"If you're so damn smart, figure it out."_

"Why?" He asked; his voice suddenly full of undeniable interest.

"Because it seemed like a simple enough question? The kind you might actually answer. "She explained with an amused grin of her own.

"I see."

Silence.

"And?" Ruby pushed him, unwilling to give up until her curiosity was sated by a good enough reason. He would have to give up and confess _eventually_; there was no way around her when she got into bulldog mode. She could pester anyone into anything if she was stubborn enough about it.

Gold seemed like he was playing a game of chess in his head, playing against himself (that would be a spectacular sight… if watching a game of chess was in the slightest bit interesting) and his inner struggle must have yielded a winner, because he sighed – a clear gesture of defeat.

„I ordered it because I was feeling like something sweet and cherry was the first thing that came to mind. "

"See? Was that so hard?" Ruby beamed.

"Harder than you think." He admitted, tilting his head playfully.

"Now that you got to ask a question, may I do the same?" Gold requested.

Well, that was quick; the guy didn't waste any time.

"You're really all for reciprocity, aren't you?" Ruby dazzled him with her wolfish grin, enjoying the fact that she seemed to know so much about him, enough to be able to push his buttons with an above-average success rate.

"I thought equal rights were what women have been struggling to achieve for centuries."

"_Touché."_

Ruby was amused (too easily for her own taste, but what can you do?) and gave in: "Fine, I get the picture... Ask away."

He seemed pensive for a moment, like he was debating whether to open his mouth or not, but the urge must have been too strong.

"Why do you use... So much red?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your lipstick." When she looked at him funny, he proceeded to elaborate, accompanying the words with an elaborate (and entirely ridiculous) hand gesture: "And the rest of it." As she followed his hand movements, the fork he held in that hand swished up and down, so she assumed that he was talking about the way she dressed.

"Duh, because it looks amazing! I mean, it makes me look amazing." She added knowingly, leaning back into her chair like she owned the place.

"I never said it didn't." Gold stated calmly, his pie and fork momentarily forgotten. "You don't really need all that, though."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't need that to make you look... better." He offered simply, looking her straight in the eye. There was a palpable quality to his gaze, one she found herself unable to dissect into anything that made sense yet, but she still couldn't look away.

"Are you saying what I think you are?" She frowned slightly.

"It depends on what you think it is that I'm saying."

Again that poker face. The man was an enigma. And a good mystery always begged to be discovered.

Even if you had to bust in with a torch and a whip, destroying everything in your path to get what you wanted.

"Giving me a compliment." She blurted out, hoping he wouldn't laugh in her face.

"That would be a fair assessment."

Good. He didn't laugh, just smiled.

A bit.

"You're saying that... I look pretty enough without the make-up." He was actually _making_ her say these embarrassing things on her own. Maybe she should have a bite of that pie and use it as an excuse to kick him in the knee under the table.

"Yes. That's what I said." He offered a wry grin.

"O-kay…" Ruby trailed off, looking away towards something less difficult to maintain eye-contact with – like the folded menu on the table, the one that stood right next to his playful hand and… Her brain froze as her eyes went wide.

"What is it?" Gold asked, almost genuinely interested. Though she suspected that he was planning something, as usual.

"It's just that… You giving me compliments, that should make me really uncomfortable." Ruby voiced awkwardly, looking at him sideways.

"But?" He asked, one of his eyebrows arched upwards. The manipulator was just _waiting_ for this, and she knew it. Well, he'd get the truth, and then she would see if he was actually capable of handling it.

"But it... doesn't. Not really." Ruby stated with a slight shrug.

She expected him to say something, anything, to snicker, to giggle, to give her that infuriating, knowing smile of his, but he chose to ignore everything she just said as he took another bite of his cherry pie.

"Do you want a bite?" He asked, suddenly forward.

"_Where did that come from?_"

"No, thank you, I've already tried everything on the menu, I know how it tastes." She tried to refuse him politely and hoped he wouldn't feel offended by her flat out refusal.

"Suit yourself."

Those two words were so simple, spoken with a faint resignation that didn't have any hurt or disappointment in it, like he honestly didn't care about her reaction whatsoever. Which, of course, made no sense. Why did he even say it? Was it because she had been staring at him while he was eating? Oh, God… That was an embarrassing thought. Maybe he thought she was hungry?

No, now _that_ was monumentally stupid. She could just get herself a slice of whatever was left; she didn't need to eat off his plate.

But then again, he wasn't forcing her to do anything. He just asked, she refused and that was the end. No begging, no grabbing, no attempts to persuade her, just acceptance, plain and simple.

And that blew her away.

He didn't want anything from her that she wouldn't be willing to give first. No expectations, no power games, no condescending comments… And that made all the difference.

At least all the difference she needed.

"Ok, just one bite, though – I don't want you to refuse to pay for it later because your waitress dared take a bite."

Gold laughed brightly and said: "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Yeah, sure you wouldn't." She eyed him with suspicion as he directed a delicious morsel of cherry pastry her way, cradled on his fork. He extended his hand just far enough so that she had to lean over the table to eat it. She half-expected him to pull it away and make her stumble forward like a fool, but he didn't (thank God).

As her mouth closed around the fork, she realized what she was doing. Her mind took a freefall into the gutter as she realized the accursed piece of cutlery had been _in his mouth_. Many times before he had offered some to her. And she actually closed her lips around it and stopped mid-way.

It was a bit too late to open her mouth and refuse it now; that would make her seem completely ridiculous, not to mention the fact that he could easily decide to eat it himself and that would make her _die_. And turn her face permanently crimson.

Oh, and probably summon Cthulhu as well.

The only thing she could do was to get on with it and ignore the images forming in her head, images of him taking the bite back from her mouth, using his t….

"_HELL NO."_ She thought as she swallowed the damned thing and collapsed into her seat, unable to look him in the eye. She could feel her cheeks tingling, but, surprisingly, he said nothing. He noticed, she could feel the sheer intensity of his gaze burning into her skin, but he at least had the decency not to rub it in.

He finished the rest of his dessert and reached for his wallet, Ruby suddenly looking straight at him (her curiosity and love of tips getting the better of her at last).

Wondering what he would take out, she saw a ten dollar bill land on the table.

"_Of course it's not a twenty, what were you expecting, Rubes?"_

"Do you want change?" She asked out of obligation, even though she was pretty sure he wouldn't take it.

"No, keep it, dearie."

"Ok..." She looked at the table, unsure of what to say when his teasing voice reached her:

"Sorry, I would have left you a twenty, but, you see, a certain waitress played with my food."

She shot him a murderous glare, but it was obvious that she was as amused as he was.

It was well after closing time and Ruby wasn't sure exactly how much, but likely enough for Granny to throttle her in her sleep. Mr. Gold got up, taking his elegant cane (actually his entire elegant self) and went for the exit, Ruby beside him; her intent to close the door behind him and go home at last.

The stupid pie was making her crazy. There was something in the water supply, all right. Suddenly, she went pale as she thought about her rather intimate moment with Mr. Gold's fork.

What if _"oh-my-God"_ she actually _"no, it can't be"_ left a _"no way, no way!"_ lipstick smudge _"oh, hell no" _on it? And he used it afterwards.

Did that count as an indirect kiss?

"_Why am I even thinking about this?"_ She thought, exasperated. She wasn't in elementary school, that shit stopped being interesting around sixth grade! And now, she was actually entertaining the thought, like it was something she should be embarrassed about.

She couldn't even remember the last time when a man managed to make her feel embarrassed or shy.

Which made her realize – none of them had. Just this blood-thirsty, overdressed piranha over here. She should let him go, and head home herself, but her body wouldn't listen to the frantic instructions of her brain, almost like it had declared independence and now stood autonomous, laughing in the face of Hal's authority.

She took a longer step to bypass him and leaned against the door, effectively stopping him from getting out.

"What's the matter, my dear? You don't want me to leave?" Gold asked silkily.

She felt her breathing go erratic all of a sudden as she mumbled something barely decipherable:

"No, I don't want you..." Here she stopped, her heart racing like a wild mustang, all blood rushing through her veins so desperately, like something was chasing it. Before she could stop herself, she heard the soft, nearly whispered words leave her mouth: "…to leave."

Her voice was plaintive and weak, and she felt all of her control slipping away as he took that one extra step towards her, breaching the vague outlines of her personal space to stand just a bit too close for comfort.

With withheld breath, she watched him helplessly as he flashed a dangerous-looking little smile her way: "Well then, you'd better lock the door."

Not quite sure why she was unable to refuse his request, she turned the bolt in the door, facing him once more, left breathless and in agonizing anticipation. All of a sudden, Ruby couldn't move or think, all protests dying in her throat and mind alike. It was like she had shut down completely, and the only thing left working was a tiny, primitive part of her psyche responsible for the most basic of reflexes.

"What did you have in mind?" He asked, infuriatingly calm and infinitely amused; not moving from the spot where his approach stopped. But Ruby was frozen, out of fear or something else entirely, and was unable to respond in any way other than with her eyes – begging him to _do_ something.

Somehow, against all reason, he seemed to understand and he leaned closer, breaking the last barrier left between them, all remaining notions of propriety flung straight out of the window. He stopped when he was within kissing distance and stared into her eyes, his own glowing with a greedy sort of need to them, rooting her to the floor with its mysterious power which was somehow irrefutable and impossible to resist. The only thing she could do was watch helplessly as her insides squirmed in agony, twisted at once by this unexpected sensory overload.

When his eyes strayed downwards, Ruby thought she'd feel better, less tense and awkward, but the way he licked his lips slightly, just on their fringes – like he gave up the intent to do the full motion half-way through, forsaking it so he could focus his attention elsewhere didn't make things better; if anything, it made them much worse. She felt strangely attentive even though her mind was lost in a cursed, endless fog.

Ruby could feel his hand brushing past her hip, leaving a blazing trail of goose bumps in its wake and she let out a broken little gasp as his hand slipped slowly into the back pocket of her bright red shorts. Her body was screaming for him, consumed with desire she could no longer suppress.

But what he did with those nimble fingers next, threatened to tear her mind like a piece of canvas: he took out her little black notepad. Her mind was struggling to process, but her body was way ahead, expressing her confusion and displeasure at the broken contact. Gold waved the little booklet in front of her face like he was taunting her, and said in a very amused, but carefully calculated tone:

"Oh, I'm sorry…" He began, and she knew he regretted _nothing_.

"I thought that you … wouldn't be needing this." The way he said it, a predatory grin glinting on his face in all its glory, made her shiver like he had just managed to strip her naked with a snap of his fingers (instead of just having taken the stupid notepad out of her pocket). A seemingly inconsequential action, which left her trapped in a glass-case of despair as her body trembled and ached for the return of his teasing touch.

As if he knew _exactly_ what he was doing (and to be fair, he probably did), Gold moved closer, his face hovering an inch from hers, his eyes glazed over as he looked at her quivering lips. She wanted him to make it easier on her and just go through with it, plunging her into excruciating bliss in the process, but then he moved, his cheek brushing faintly against hers as he brought his thin lips close to her ear, no doubt ready to whisper something obscene which would make her go crazy.

He was betraying her expectations left and right, and she knew better than to attempt predicting his moves as his breath tickled her earlobe, and she was so absorbed in it that she failed to register the ghost of a touch on the outer side of her thigh. Her gaze rushed downwards, a soft moan leaving her lips despite all of her heroic efforts not to show the bastard what he was doing to her.

"Ruby…" the sound of her name spoken so sensuously into her ear threatened to undo her and his crafty fingers tracing against the soft skin of her inner thigh, on their way up, was not helping matters any.

At that moment, she knew with perfect clarity – she _wanted_ him, so very _very_ bad.

Suddenly, her heart was no longer beating in her chest as she anticipated his next move, time moving so annoyingly slow, and she found herself gasping loudly, her back arching in a sharp motion as she cried out his name.

Her eyes, which had been closed in pleasure for a while, flung open with a force comparable to the breaking of the sound wall.

Suddenly, she was upright, beads of sweat rolling off her forehead as her eyes tried to get used to the oppressing darkness that greeted her when she opened them.

Blinking in confusion, she could see that the scenery had changed drastically, because she wasn't in the diner anymore.

She was sweaty and panting in her bed, and the digital clock on her nightstand read 5: 08 am, making her stop dead as she was attempting to draw breath.

"_What the… That was a DREAM?"_

It was hard to believe that something so vivid and intense could possibly be a dream; she could practically _feel_ his breath and touch across her skin, hell, it was like the sensations had been burnt into her skin, branding her forever.

How come she didn't notice it was a dream? There were some glaring inconsistencies that should have alerted her to the fact that none of it was real.

And yet, it seemed real enough for her to put those inconsistencies aside and dive head first into the fantasy without a second thought. She collapsed back into her pillows, wiping the moisture from her forehead, her breathing coming easier now.

She should get some more sleep. And while she was at it, forget all about the unsettling fantasy.

* * *

_**A/N**_** Wow, this is one long chapter! (Next one is even longer, I feel sorry for my second beta lol) This update took a lot longer than expected because he got a job and has little time to be doing this for me...**

**Ok, he gave me a comment as he was proofreading it, and told me Ruby's reactions to Gold seemed kind of Twilight-ish in nature (yes, I'm talking about Bella and Edward here).  
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**Please tell me he is delusional. Before I bash my computer screen in. *cries*  
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	10. It's actually a date

_**A/N** _**Sorry about the lack of updates, my beta has a slave driver for a boss and it took him 2 weeks to fix a fifteen page long chapter. Yes, it's the longest chapter yet! The next one will be half as long, and the one after that will be huge (though you will likely have to be patient if you want immaculate updates). ;P We are slowly getting to the end of this story, only three chapters left! I sincerely hope you'll enjoy this chapter, as well the rest to come. **

**And last, but not least, I love each and every one of you who take the time to read this, and special hugs and kisses for the amazing folks who share their thoughts with me over reviews and pm's. Thank you for your support, you make me happy and keep me going! :D  
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* * *

Ruby took a lengthy shower that morning, the usually pleasurable exercise stretching out for what seemed like forever as she used a loofa to scrub her skin thoroughly, ignoring the irritated red marks left after her over-zealous ministrations. She made a mess of herself and knew that _something _had to be done to get it out of her system before going to work, or she would be a disaster waiting to happen. What finally stopped her from performing the abrasive motion was the hoarse voice of her grandma reaching her ears through the bathroom door:

"You'll be late for work, hurry up! Time is money!"

"Yes, Granny!" She yelled, her clear voice ricocheting off the tiles on the walls, carrying quite nicely.

"And easy on the water, we barely had enough to pay the bills last month!"

"Okay!" Ruby yelled a bit too forcefully, suddenly angry at her only remaining family member for denying her a stupid shower when she needed it the most. She asked Granny for nothing, and ten minutes longer in the shower was hardly splurging, she huffed mutinously.

"_Well, getting into Mr. Gold's pants would get rid of our financial troubles, that's for sure…"_

Without as much as a blink, she slapped herself across the face, her sopping wet palm making considerably more noise upon contact than she thought possible, hoping that her grandmother's hearing wasn't good enough to pick that up and start wondering what she was really up to in the shower for so long.

She had work to do, and standing around soaking wet wasn't going to make her problems go away. Her waitressing helped pay for their loan and bills. She had no choice (well, unless she could finally develop an affinity for living in a cardboard box, which was highly doubtful – cardboard was terrible at keeping stuff dry) so she stepped out onto the soft towel lying on the floor and used a fresh one to dry herself in a customary prelude to the start of her usual workday.

Once she was ready, her make-up done considerably simpler today for the sheer lack of time, she hoped that nobody would notice she looked different than usual. She wondered if Gold might tell her she looks better like this, recalling the look of satisfaction and approval she found on his features last night. Then she laughed at the idea. Pinning a delirious sentence from a dream to the opinion of the actual person was ridiculous.

Brushing her dark brown tresses, she tied her hair into a loose ponytail on the left. She had no time to do anything elaborate with her hair this morning, but the asymmetry could potentially draw the attention away from that.

"_Girl, nobody gives a damn how your hair looks when your legs are in sight. Don't be stupid."_

Feeling assured once more, she moved her head left and right in front of the mirror, giving herself one last appraising look to make sure the dark circles under her eyes were covered with a thick enough layer of concealer, and that the eyeliner was applied evenly to both of her eyes. Once she was satisfied that her sleepless night shouldn't be visible to anyone, she stepped out of the bathroom, hastily throwing some clothes on.

She got to the diner five minutes after it was supposed to be open, but to her relief, there were no desperate (or raging) customers waiting at the door. She unlocked and ran in, went straight through the restroom door and fumbled to get into her suddenly annoyingly tight uniform. The other waitresses wore their uniforms properly, without tying them to reveal their bare midriff, but none of them could boast a belly as flat as hers (or the bounty of tips she received).

Tossing her clothes over her arm, she went for the door, suddenly aware that she really needed to start working. People would be clamoring for their coffee soon, and they tended to get very grumpy when they were denied their morning fix. She could hear the clink of the bell, knowing it was probably just the cook; he usually came shortly after her and she fully expected the stocky man to appear in front of her and greet her as usual (even though the guy wasn't very talkative; she couldn't remember ever having a conversation with him unless it was to hand him an order, and even then he'd usually just nod or grumble in response) but when the door swung open, she found herself looking straight at Mr. Gold.

Her eyes went wide in surprise for a moment as she tried to appear normal.

Of course it wasn't the cook; he actually had a spare key and usually came from the back entrance (the same one they used for deliveries and the like), the guy _never_ came in through the front door. She instantly felt stupid and cursed the smart dresser standing before her for looking all suave and vaguely intrigued. He truly had a gift for showing up when people least expected him to (like credit card bills when you were already in the red, or a nasty rash you'd get from the nicest looking guy).

"_Ok, Mr. Murphy, stop fucking with me!"_

Ruby groaned internally, cursing her mind for careening towards the worst kinds of scenarios, the proverbial cliffs popping up left and right like mushrooms after the rain. She blinked a few times and shook her head almost imperceptibly, smashing a mental restart button with an urgency only warranted for by an impending nuclear meltdown.

"Oh, I'm sorry; I'll take your order in a sec, ok?" She tried to gesture with her left hand, only then noticing that she couldn't really move it as her pants and sweater flailed around. Ruby immediately swished the clothing behind her back, almost like they were somehow really inappropriate to be seen by a customer.

He seemed slightly amused but he offered nothing save a little nod of acknowledgment as he went to sit at his table.

_His frickin' dream table._ Actually, it was her dream… table.

Snapping out of her thoughts with a shudder, she rushed to stash her clothes away in the tiny office they used as a storeroom and went to accommodate the first customer of the day. As she moved from behind the counter, she noticed that he wasn't looking at her, and appeared extremely focused on the nails of his right hand.

"_Ignoring me so soon, are you?"_ She snickered, her thoughts drifting back to the beginning of the dream she had last night. The start was eerily similar; making her wonder what other creepy details would be repeated during his stay here.

"What can I do you for today, Mr. Gold?"

He looked up sharply, his deep brown eyes narrowing in what she assumed was disbelief or suspicion, looking like he wasn't sure if he heard it right.

Ruby blushed furiously, her cheeks flushing to the point where she could almost feel steam coming out of her pores. Of all the stupid stuff she could think of, what came out of her mouth just _had_ to sound like sexual innuendo! It was all that stupid dream's fault! Not only did it make her frustrated to the point of rubbing her skin raw (literally) but on top of being late for work, her usually impenetrable layer of make-up was now too thin to conceal the rising heat radiating off of her in unpleasant waves. She shut her eyes firmly in a desperately pathetic attempt at self-defense. And immediately regretted it.

"_You're not a frickin' ostrich, Rubes! So act accordingly!" _Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she opened her eyes only to be greeted by a nano-smile of infinite amusement flickering on his face. He seemed perfectly content to just sit there and consume her with that infuriating little snicker, his mischievous eyes threatening to put her under a spell.

"_Your voodoo gaze won't work on me, you creep!"_ She growled on the inside, her back straightening with a subtle crackle as she stood tall in front of the pawn broker. Hey, some sort of dominance had to be established here! Even if all it included was regaining control over her embarrassing physical reactions.

Gold slowly retreated to lean on the back of his seat, whether because he was intimidated by the fierce glare she stabbed him with, or because he wanted her to drop her guard once again; she didn't know. When he seemed comfortable enough, his eyes suddenly focused on an undetermined point in space before him as he said in an even tone:

"I'll just have a cup of coffee, thank you."

Ok, that was weird. Ruby thought she knew him fairly well by now, and had fully expected him to tease her for blushing like a twelve year old girl, but he just sat there and unfolded the newspapers (that he had obviously brought on his own) in front of him, the paper crinkling softly as his fingers spread the pages open. She blinked a couple of times, her mouth slightly agape, eyebrows arched. Mouthing the word "Ohhkaaay…" without actually producing the sound, she spun on her heel and hurried away to brew a fresh pot.

While she was absorbed in her task, a clattering sound echoed in the kitchen. They were no longer all alone in the diner. She didn't quite know how to feel about that. This meant that there would be no molesting on Mr. Gold's part – lest he get a frying pan straight to his head, flung with deadly-accuracy - quite possibly with the burning remains of whatever was cooking in it at the time. The image of the usually ever serious antiques dealer with an egg sunny side up sliding off his hair and splashing against his overly expensive suit made her giggle.

Ah, this was much better.

She picked up a mug and filled it with black, steaming coffee. A short, gingerly stroll later, Ruby stopped next to him and placed the cup gently on the table (a spill would likely have hurt a lot!).

"You sure you don't want a slice of pie with that? Cherry perhaps?" She asked teasingly, suddenly acutely aware that her mouth ran ahead of her brain yet _again_. To her surprise, her voice didn't quiver, even though she did something completely uncalled for. But there's no way he knew what that was about, so she was probably safe. He looked at her mildly puzzled, but then replied dismissively: "No thank you, dearie. Not today."

She sighed (in relief actually), looking somewhat pouty, and shrugged.

"Suit yourself…"

"_That was close!" _ She thought with no small measure of relief as his eyes returned to the crisp copy of the Daily Mirror. The little bell clinked once more and she turned around to see the handsome Sheriff entering the diner. He usually took his coffee in here, unless he was terribly busy, which was rare; nothing EVER happened in Storybrooke; she suspected the only thing keeping them from earning the title of the town with the lowest crime rate in the history of the United States was Leroy's occasional _d__isturbing of the public peace_ and her recent scuffle with Dr. _Wail_.

"Morning, Ruby!" He said in high spirits.

"Morning, handsome!" She smiled, her left hand perched on her hip perkily as she flashed him one of her famous sparkly grins.

Graham smiled at this, and Ruby knew that he must be feeling slightly uncomfortable (he averted his gaze and stuck his hands into the pockets of his trousers) but he seemed aware that she was teasing him. Probably.

"So, what'll it be?" She asked, finally remembering that she had a job to do.

"A coffee to go, I'm rather busy today." Graham seemed apologetic for some reason, like she had caught him doing something embarrassing. She had to admit, he was pretty cute when he looked flustered.

"Latte, as usual? With two sugars?"

"Yes, please." He smiled appreciatively.

As she bounced around preparing his order, she almost managed to forget about Mr. Gold. But he just had to flip a page of his newspaper, and her gaze flew to him immediately, a very unpleasant realization crashing on her – she just flirted with Graham in front of him.

Ok, strictly speaking, it wasn't really flirting. She just said the truth to the hunky sheriff, but still… She couldn't help but be aware of her body language; it kind of betrayed her there. She wondered if Gold noticed it, and in case he did, he was making a commendable effort at keeping his face impossible to read. She smirked when an idea struck: what if the pawn broker was _jealous_? The thought made her feel positively giddy inside, so much that she actually forgot that she wasn't supposed to _care_ about what he thought in the slightest.

Closing the lid on Graham's latte, she hooked her fingers under the top (paper was a sucky insulator when burning liquids were involved) and ferried it to the Sheriff with a huge grin plastered on her face.

He took the cup, holding it in the same way, and left her a crumpled bill on the counter, nodding in thanks.

He motioned to leave, but then stopped as he remembered he had something to say.

"Oh, before I forget, Whale said he would be coming to apologize. I thought I'd give you a heads up."

"Now he remembers?" Ruby snorted. "Thanks for letting me know."

"No problem. Have a nice day, Ruby."

"You too!" She waved after him as the doors of the diner shut after him.

Ruby sighed and went back behind the counter, feeling fairly indifferent towards this new piece of information. The lecherous doctor hadn't set foot into the diner ever since that night and Ruby was pretty sure that he was avoiding her, because she couldn't see him anywhere.

And not seeing someone in Storybrooke was _nearly_ impossible to accomplish, since everyone seemed to know everybody else, also… there weren't many places to hide. But she cared little about the guy; he would probably come all snivelly and beg for forgiveness. He certainly seemed like the type, and she couldn't help but imagine him as something slimy, scurrying about from hole to hole.

Her gaze wondered to the ever mysterious Mr. Gold. He still seemed blissfully unaware of his surroundings, and she eyed him carefully each time he'd raise the mug to his lips, taking the tiniest of sips.

"_Drinking like that will take forever…_" She mused, snickering slightly at the thought of the snide loan shark staying here until the end of her shift. How would he explain _that_?

She continued to watch him in silence, her eyes glazing over after a while, thoughts swimming around her head like a school of fish. The more she looked at Gold, the more she could see – the way his eyes skimmed across the pages, the slowly graying hair falling around his face, framing it in an appealing way. He seemed deep in thought, and also aloof at the same time, like reading this was somehow really dull and definitely not worth his time or attention, yet he skipped nothing.

He was thorough.

Ruby blanched at that thought and hoped he wouldn't choose this moment to look up and see her rattled. Luckily for her, the tiny bell let out a warning signal that there were customers to be served.

Except the person that came in was no customer.

Her face immediately went rigid, her usual dazzling smile nowhere to be seen, lips forming a thin line – an obvious sign of distaste and apprehension.

The man looked at her sheepishly, his gaze faltering, a queasy smile flickering on the corners of his mouth. Ruby immediately crossed her arms over her chest, waiting all tight-lipped for the man to make a move. His uneasy smile disappeared at once, but he made a hesitant step forward, never breaking eye contact even though it was painfully obvious that he would like nothing better.

"_Like a startled rabbit._" Ruby sniggered inwardly.

"Uhm…" Whale began shakily: "Ruby, I…"

"It should be Miss Lucas at the very least… _Doctor_."

Ruby's head snapped in the direction of the deceptively soothing voice, knowing at once that it belonged to none other than Mr. Gold. She didn't know how, but he was already up on his feet, leaning on his cane, glaring daggers at Whale who only then seemed to notice that he wasn't alone with Ruby. The nervous doctor swallowed, shrinking visibly in front of her eyes – it seemed like that little cane thrashing instilled a healthy dose of fear into him, for which she was instantly glad, nearly gleefully so. The more witless he appeared, the better she would feel about this. Now, when she knew that Gold had her back, she could focus on the groveling slip of a man in front of her.

"What do you want? I haven't got all day." Ruby stated, clearly bored and dismissive. It was, quite literally, a verbal kick in the ass. And out the door.

"I, uh… I wanted to apologize for my rude –"

"Appalling." Gold interjected frostily, his face a mask of calculated indifference, but his voice carried a threatening note, and there was no way Whale could have missed it.

Whale flinched, but managed to continue: "Yes, I meant to apologize for my… appalling behavior that night… I'm really sorry, Ru - , I mean, Miss Lucas." He finished apologetically, his forehead glistening with sweat. It was a testament to the amount of pressure he was under, but Ruby found it hard to be sympathetic, even when he tried to hand her a bouquet of daisies.

She looked at it for a long moment, her eyebrows arched. His hand was still outstretched (even though it was trembling quite visibly) but she made no effort to acknowledge the peace offering.

"_Daisies? Really?"_

Whale looked uncomfortable and startled, his little eyes twitching nervously as he willed his hand to stay outstretched. Ruby thought he looked like he was about to faint. Or piss his pants.

No matter how amusing that would be, she didn't want to clean up the mess either of those two options would make, and finally made a move (though very grudgingly).

"Leave them on the counter."

He seemed conflicted and relieved at the same time as he let the simple bouquet fall on the gleaming countertop. His brow knit in confusion as he proceeded to wipe his palms on the dark fabric of his trousers.

"This doesn't mean I forgive you, though." She added, quite unwilling to give him any hopes, no matter how charming or disarmingly lost he was trying to appear.

"Then –"He began, only to be cut off by her rising tone:

"What it _does_ mean, is that you can show your face around here again, without worrying about me poisoning your coffee."

He tried to show a weak smile, looking like he was hoping that had been nothing but a joke, but her cross face didn't inspire optimism.

"So…" The aspiring womanizer was trying really hard to define what this situation meant, but it seemed like all of his courage fled, leaving him to be devoured alive by the furious man-eater standing behind the counter.

"So, nothing. I can't ban you from the diner, it's bad for business."

"I was just thinking if you could, maybe…"

"What?" Ruby asked, impatience sharp in her voice.

The uncomfortable moment was interrupted when Mr. Gold laughed quietly and Ruby turned just in time to see a slight toothy grin spreading on his face. Oh, that was derision, that's what it was – a jagged, pointy smile meant to shrink the opponent into nothingness (not that there was much left of Whale for that).

"So that is what you've wanted all along." He smiled knowingly, piercing the doctor with a laser glare.

"No, I –"Whale fumbled, and Ruby frowned, not quite getting what Gold seemed so happy about all of a sudden. And yet, it seemed like the two men understood each other perfectly – no need for words; body language alone was enough and it spoke volumes. Whale looked as uncomfortable and embarrassed as it was humanly possible, all trembling and shoulders hunched, shrinking in front of a superior opponent, while Gold stood upright, staring the omega down with his unwavering gaze of dominance, putting him in his proper place.

Oh, if it came to that, Mr. Gold was definitely at the very top of the food chain and, right now, it appeared as if Whale wasn't even _in_ it, because the pawn broker was barely acknowledging his existence (the way a lion might acknowledge a larva).

Not knowing was frustrating, so Ruby let out an irritated complaint: "Would someone mind filling me in?" Her voice brimmed with impatience as exasperation kicked in – being the only one left out of the loop wasn't exactly a satisfying feeling.

Whale gaped like a yawning baboon, his face red with anger or despair born of frustration perhaps, looking like some vital secret was about to be blown for the whole world to see – something thoroughly undignified at that, and she got her answer soon enough. Gold sneered at the bumbling doctor, baring his teeth in a menacing gesture that still managed to convey condescension which was obviously simmering on the inside of that snazzy suit of armor of his.

"You see, my dear, our good doctor came here in the hopes of being forgiven; thus getting you to drop the charges."

That was over a bit too quickly for Ruby's taste (she was really looking forward to the nearly inquisitorial torture session she assumed Gold had in store for the man), but there was satisfaction to be drawn from this as well, seeing how Whale's face turned green in less than a second. Mr. Gold's bluntness was lethal, probably as much as his teasing, or whatever else he used on his victims to make them crumble from within (and she couldn't deny how effective his methods were).

Whale had, for all intents and purposes, just turned into stone – his whole body suddenly rigid and face sickly gray.

Ruby laughed in Whale's face. "If that's what you came here for, I'm afraid you'll have to leave without it."

The doctor seemed like he was about to be sick, a wild flicker of desperation flashing in his watery eyes.

"Please, Ruby! If… if I'm convicted, I might lose my medical license! Regina would make sure I lost my job, and… I'm sorry; I will pay anything you ask, just drop the charges… I'm begging you!"

His hands drawn together, in a manner of a supplicant kneeling at an altar, laying his soul bare before his deity, made Ruby feel like it was genuine. The man was usually false, his words sugar-coated in the gooey sweetness of flattery, but there was none of it present at the moment, just a man stripped of all pretense, honest and on the verge of breaking down.

As much as she disliked Whale, she didn't want to get him fired; she knew how scary losing one's livelihood could be, and she felt her heart softening considerably as she imagined him slumming on a park bench (Gold would be more than happy to evict him as soon as he failed to pay rent). She felt her arms fall by her sides as she sighed slightly.

Ruby looked straight at Whale, keeping her voice strict but slightly lenient: "I am not about to forget what you've done, and I still want to smack you across the face with my tray, but I suppose getting you fired would be a bit too much…"

The rigid lines on his face loosened considerably as he managed a weak, hopeful smile.

"I will see Graham after my shift, is that ok?"

Whale beamed at her, looking like a little child on Christmas morning.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" He moved forward, like he was about to throw his arms around her, but stopped when he realized the counter was still between them.

"One last thing." Ruby began.

"Y-yes?" he muttered nervously, worry evident on his face.

"You don't have to pay us anything. Just make sure that whenever you eat out, you come here and leave big, fat tips for me, or any other unfortunate girls serving you. You got that?"

Whale blinked once in confusion and then, as this new info set in, nodded vigorously.

"Of course! I'll make sure to do that!" He smiled awkwardly, gave her a miniature bow and promptly excused himself (something about his shift at the hospital).

Ruby watched his hasty retreat and let out a long puff as the doors clamped shut behind him.

"That was very generous of you." Gold commented.

Ruby snapped out of her thoughts (she actually managed to forget all about him, no matter how unlikely it seemed a few minutes ago), and gave the poised antiques dealer a slightly startled look.

"Yeah, well… What can I say, I'm a saint." She shrugged, a feeble attempt at a smile bearing no fruit.

"I can make sure he never bothers you again, if that worries you." He offered.

Ruby stared into his eyes for a long moment, the strict, serious mask drawn over his face making it impossible to discern exactly what he was feeling as he made that offer. Was he worried about her? Or just vindictive?

Vindictive about what? It's not like Whale attacked _him_ or stole something of his.

Then an uncomfortable thought struck. Did Gold actually regard her as something of _his_?

Ok, that was ridiculous. There was nothing between them that would justify that.

"_At least not yet…" _ Ruby reminded herself and bit her lower lip, her face betraying the anguish that welled up on the inside.

"No, no need for that… I think he's already scarred for life."

Gold smiled at that and Ruby felt relieved all of a sudden.

"As you wish, my dear." He acquiesced and went back to his seat, returning to his (no doubt already cold) coffee.

At that moment, Leroy stepped in, grumbling as he hit his toe on the doorstep, limping for a step or two until he got to the nearest table, dropping into his chair unceremoniously, cursing the existence of protruding elements of all kinds until Ruby sailed into view, ready to take her grumpiest customer's order.

"Give me a cheese omelet."

"Rough night?" Ruby inquired, cocking her left eyebrow, flashing the bearded man her sparkly, toothy grin.

"You have no idea, sister." He grumbled dispassionately, the corners of his mouth pointing downwards. "Regina has no appreciation for my gardening skills."

Ruby had a hard time suppressing a loud chuckle, managing at the last moment to stifle it with the back of her left hand. One more detail and she would add prophetic dreams to the list of her abilities.

She was pleased when Leroy finally had his breakfast before him, the omelet served with two extra strips of delicious crispy bacon (just the way he liked it) and the genuine smile of satisfaction that lit his face was more than worth the effort. He didn't bother thanking her, but the way he dug into his meal with zeal was thanks enough. Life was comprised of small pleasures, and if she could make a customer happy with something so small, it was no trouble at all. To be fair, a happy customer was likely to tip more – she might be a saint, but she was no altruist.

As customers started filing in, she busied herself with orders, having little time to dwell on this morning's events.

Once everyone was served, she allowed herself a moment to rest, wiping the countertop just to appear busy (one of the things Granny insisted on – idle hands were bad for business, therefore, an employee always had to do _something_). Seconds trickled by in slow motion, her gaze fixed on Mr. Gold; the man as immersed in his papers as before.

Immediately swarming to the dream she had last night, her thoughts latched themselves on the parts she would rather forget, for they were disturbing and extremely evocative. Was she really this desperate, craving a guy twice her age? Actually, nobody really knew his age; he could be anywhere from forty to God-knows-how-old, but Ruby would probably bet on fifty-ish if she was forced to.

Now when she thought about it, age mattered little. Of course, there were certain limits which shouldn't be crossed (because they careened towards mental instability) but he wasn't past either of those lines – he was neither under fifteen (Pedobear age) or over sixty/seventy (gerontophilia, was it?), so she was safe from that side. Rationally, she wasn't in the creepy zone either. Ruby was no longer jail-bait, just… bait. And it was closer and closer within the realm of possibility - the idea of attempting something, just to see if he was interested. But then again… It was Mr. Gold we were talking about here, he wasn't just anyone – the man was vicious, devious and filthy rich. And she actually found that she hated none of those things about him.

But what was it that attracted her this much? That wet dream was a first; none of the men she had ever dated managed to stir her subconscious enough to produce such… stimulating fantasies. She had to go back to peruse her list of preferences.

Looks came to mind first. Ok, if he was likely to fail any category, it was definitely this one. The whole graying hair issue aside (it worked for him, strangely enough), the limp should be off-putting, but it wasn't, not really. He could have gotten that injury in a war, and women found war heroes really sexy – sustained injury stood for bravery and strength of character, both of which were highly desirable traits. Though, to be fair, there was something off with that assessment – Gold looked nothing like a decorated war veteran. Those usually tended to display their medals, flaunting them in the faces of all those who hadn't dared fight (and ridiculously enough, those who were so young they weren't even born at the time). And Gold never did anything of the sort, never bragged about anything to anyone, though he'd likely get shot for rubbing it in, people didn't need reminding they were inferior to him in every way imaginable. Also, no ex-soldier could boast a business empire (bordering on mafia cartel if running methods were taken into consideration) as expansive as Gold's.

Unless you counted Forrest Gump, that is. But that was beside the point.

Ok, so… Even though he wasn't young, he looked good enough for her not to be repulsed by him, quite the opposite – just looking at him now (post-dream) made her lady parts uncomfortably warm, rousing in her a need to see him in less than his suit, the golden armband ensemble coming to mind, making the sudden onslaught of desire nigh impossible to bear.

"_Ok, Rubes… Enough of that, moving on…"_

What else was there that she liked in men?

Oh, of course – the sense of humor. That one was essential. And to her dismay, he had more of it than was good for her mental health. Gold seemed to share a quirky, darker sort of humor that she enjoyed immensely, and exchanging witty retorts with him was always a thing to look forward to.

He was actually fairly easy to talk to, once you knew how to deal with his sharp wit, and he was able to hold a decent conversation with her. Yeah, guys didn't usually think that one was important. Well, it was. And he excelled at it.

She was completely absorbed in her little analysis, so much that she managed to miss Leroy leaving (as well as a few other people) and finally realized that the pawn broker was looking straight at her, a small smile of amusement flickering on the edges of his lips.

"_Oops. Busted."_ Was all she thought as he approached the counter (probably to pay for his coffee).

"You've been staring, dearie." He failed to suppress a grin. Not only did he notice, he _liked_ it.

"Nuh-uh." Ruby shook her head in hazy denial, her eyes still slightly unfocused and her lips pursed in a pout, almost. "I wasn't staring."

"I believe that looking at somebody for more than five minutes straight without blinking constitutes as staring."

Ruby wanted to be embarrassed enough to escape, but her shyness reserves seemed depleted, leaving her no choice but to delve into supplies of other emotions. Defiance was a good start.

"I wasn't staring at you." She stated firmly, her eyes finally meeting his without a trace of hesitation in them. She was so adamant about it, that he would have no choice but to believe her, no matter how preposterous her claim was.

"Then what, pray tell, were you doing?" Gold asked, looking entertained in advance.

"Thinking about you." She answered cheekily.

Now that was an answer he definitely wasn't expecting! It was obvious from the way his eyebrows arched, a tiny cough masked by a sharp exhale revealing how unprepared he was for that particular statement. He seemed momentarily taken aback, but it didn't last long, he was quick on his feet, she'd give him that, recovering from shock instantaneously.

"What about me?" He inquired, mischief positively dripping from his voice.

He was amused. And interested, oh, so very interested.

She allowed her gaze to drift into space, her eyes glossy as she spoke distantly, as if trying to remember exactly what it was that she was so busy thinking about.

"I was just wondering if you slept on a mattress stuffed with hundred-dollar bills, like a nest or something… Hey, a bachelor's pad? It qualifies as a lair, I'm sure."

All the noise he made laughing at that sentence was made solely through his nose, and was definitely not strong enough to be called a snort.

"What else was there?" He asked, showing off one of his canines.

"What makes you think there's more?" She challenged petulantly.

"That was quite a long stare, my dear."

"Fine." She grumbled, looking really annoyed at the prospect of having to explain, but accepting her fate nonetheless.

"Hmmm… I was also wondering how many bodies you have buried in the woods over the years…"

She grinned victoriously as he laughed for a moment, acknowledging her wit.

"Ah, but there's a flaw in your reasoning, dearie; do you remember anyone ever going missing in this town?"

He looked way too sure about this and it only made her want to prove him wrong even more.

"No…" She admitted slowly, pondering why that could be.

"There goes that little theory of yours." He smirked smugly.

"Ok, fine… Maybe not people from Storybrooke, but from somewhere else? Maybe that's why we never have any visitors around here."

Gold cast her an incredulous look: "Do you really think I have nothing better to do with my time than to stay by the road leading into our peaceful little town and pick off unsuspecting tourists?"

"I wouldn't be surprised." She smirked at him, all sassy and daring.

"And what motive would I possibly have to do a thing like that?"

That was a fair question. She ignored his amused, expectant look and thought for a moment.

"Well… To preserve the balance of power in Storybrooke."

"_Or to make sure the inn stays empty, so we can never get out of that loan."_

His eyebrows arched again and she knew she needed to elaborate further.

"Everybody and their grandma knows that you are in a state of cold war with Regina. Fresh money and people pouring in would disturb the balance, and I doubt you'd like that. Besides, I doubt anyone coming here would side with you; no offense, but Regina could seduce pretty much anyone into doing what she wants."

"Fair enough." Gold admitted almost grudgingly, even though that smirk never left his face.

"Anything else?" He asked, looking almost hopeful for more entertainment.

"Uhmm…" She tried to appear deep in thought. "I was also wondering when you would be buying me dinner."

"_Holy shit! Where did THAT come from?"_ Ruby's insides were exploding like a volcano, but all of the lava and the billowing black smoke and clouds of ash weren't visible on the outside, because, by some miracle of fate, her face remained perfectly impassive, her full red lips still pursed slightly.

"Are you implying what I think you are?" Gold looked slightly mystified, but fully aware of the meaning her words conveyed.

Last night's dream floated in front of her eyes once more, and there it was, a chance to turn the tables so deliciously, part of her deeply pleased by the fact that he would never know.

"Depends on what you think it is I'm implying."

Gold looked mildly shocked by this (the good kind of shock – amused disbelief), his mouth agape slightly, eyes narrowed at her, head tilted slightly to the right. There was an intriguing twinkle in his eyes and she realized that he was actually laughing on the inside. The determination that flashed subtly across his features told her that this was definitely the "oh-so-you-want-to-play-_that_-game" look, and that he was more than willing to oblige.

"Oh… I don't know… One could say that you are soliciting the town's ogre for your own inscrutable purposes."

Ruby giggled, perching her left hand on her hip, her wolfish grin permanently fixed on her face.

"Wouldn't _you_ like that?" She teased, knowing full well that she had the upper hand here.

But Gold wasn't outmaneuvered yet.

"I'm not sure if even selling your soul to the devil would be price enough to obtain that information." The sly merchant grinned at her, his golden tooth glinting in the daylight pouring in from the outside.

She let out a chuckle, her face showing a perfect "oh-please" expression as she rolled her eyes and then leaned closer to him, looking at him deviously.

"Please, like my soul is the best I can offer."

He _knew_ what she meant; she could see it in his eyes. The way he licked his lips almost imperceptibly (well, not imperceptibly enough!) and his eyes straying downwards was all the proof she needed.

"A deal could always be struck…" He nodded in approval, and Ruby felt like she had just been slapped across the face. Did the greasy bastard just insinuate…

Would he really be willing to _pay_ for her?

The thought was endlessly creepy and disgusting.

The image of his hands undressing and caressing her, throwing and then pinning her against the wall, taking her forcefully only to throw a wad of money her way after it was done was…

Ok, the first part was wholly appealing, but the last was just… wrong. She wasn't a whore, no matter how many broken-hearted idiots claimed otherwise.

Her deep frown probably alerted him to the fact that something was off, and he took a step back.

Ruby snapped out of her thoughts, the lower part of her body still ablaze despite how angry she was with him, but seeing him retreat was definitely not a part of her plan. She needed to salvage the situation, and fast.

"I was just doing you a favor, you know."

For the first time ever, Gold actually seemed at a loss for words. Using this momentary lapse in brain function on his part, she continued to explain.

"I never got the chance to properly thank you for saving me. Any other guy would already have cashed in on that, and dinner is usually the way to go."

"You expected me to… cash in?" He seemed torn between a look of disbelief and curiosity.

"Not really… But I suppose it's a nice tradition, so why break it?"

Gold chuckled quietly, and said as he shook his head: "Because you are so fond of keeping those."

Ruby's eyes went wide as some small measure of shyness managed to materialize in the bottom of her heart; his observation was spot on. As embarrassing as overlooking that had been, she had already gone too far and might as well stick with it.

"Do you want to take me out or not?" She asked bluntly. This was as honest as she could get (aside from grabbing a club and smacking him across the head with it), and the ball was in his court.

He appeared taken by surprise for a second, but then looked straight into her eyes and snickered.

"Pick the time and place."

Oh, so he could be forward as well… good, she had more than enough of beating around the bush.

"Next Saturday. And take me anywhere but here."

He laughed then, looking as genuine as it was possible for him, likely amused by the fact that she didn't want to have a date with him right under Granny's nose.

"It's a deal." He said.

She was starting to see a pattern there. _"It's actually a date, but whatever floats your boat, Mr. Fancy-pants."_

"Pick me up at eight. And don't drive to the inn, wait by the forest road, I'll come out."

He smiled knowingly and looked at her conspiratorially.

"Until then, my dear…" He bowed his head minutely and left the diner.

Suddenly aware of what she had just signed up for, she glanced around the diner terrified, wondering how many customers had just witnessed their little exchange and then sighed in relief as she noticed the diner was empty (save for the cook, of course). But that guy wouldn't tell a soul.

If not Ruby, then Gold would make quite sure of that.

The last thing she needed was a furious Granny threatening to disinherit her.


	11. Hot Ride

Saturday couldn't come fast enough. Ruby spent the rest of her week reflecting on what she had done that morning, and how daring it was of her. She had no qualms about asking guys out, but Mr. Gold wasn't just any guy, and she found herself particularly distracted in the mornings, half-expecting to wake up from another troubling dream, or getting worked up before going to the diner, actually arriving in advance, some small (rather masochistic) part of her excited in anticipation of finding him there.

But it appeared that he had no plans to see her before their rendezvous, or date, or whatever it was, seemingly quite determined to keep her waiting. She couldn't help but feel it was intentional.

She had half a mind to call the whole thing off on more than a few occasions, her mood swinging from ecstatic to abhorrent in the span of less than an hour, and sometimes changing several shades a minute. It was just a dinner, she had to remind herself, not an open invitation for whatever that could happen between a willing man and woman.

He seemed surprised when she made the suggestion, and showed no indication that he had ever considered an outing with her (or anyone else for that matter). It was almost like he found it _unthinkable_. And that was really odd. He never gave off the impression of a man with low self esteem; quite the opposite, but her invitation had genuinely surprised him. Still, he accepted it, and even though it should be the other way around, Ruby felt grateful. This was new to him, and she relished the fact that this might be the perfect opportunity to get close enough to the man to satisfy her curiosity.

After the morning shift on Saturday, Ruby very nearly ran to the B&B, flung the door of her room wide open and stopped. She had about three hours to get ready, and she'd make damn sure that every little detail was perfect. The situation called for a quick shower, washing her hair and shaving her legs – that was last on her list (that way the smoothness would last longer). Instantly glad that she had picked her outfit the day before, for choosing it now, in this frantic state, would have consumed most of her time, and also alerted Granny to the fact that it was a really big date – which she had no business knowing - she exhaled, trying to suppress a sudden bout of nervousness.

She applied a rather generous portion of her favorite wild berry body wash on her red loofa, enjoying the smell of the tangy-scented foam as it spread over her skin. No matter how enjoyable this was, she reminded herself that there was no time to waste – she still needed to wash her hair, use a peeling cream on her legs, and file her nails… So much to do, so little time!

An hour later, most of it was done and she was drying her hair, the blow dryer buzzing loudly in the confines of the narrow bathroom. Today she'd go for a deceptively simple hairstyle, flattening her hair into submission with the searing heat of her straightener. Men _never_ seemed to notice that hair like that was a result of hours of toiling in front of the mirror and did not magically exist on its own, by some blessing or genetic fluke. Well, she didn't need him to notice the effort; it would actually be better if he just assumed what most men did, it would save her the trouble of explaining the need to look better than usual for him.

"_Not him, bird-brain, you're doing this for you."_ Ruby reminded herself sternly.

Nope, she definitely didn't need him to notice, as long as it made her look like the _best fucking thing _he had ever seen in his entire life. Yes, that would do.

Once her hair was sufficiently subdued and lying obediently flat, it was time for make-up.

Smoky eyes would do the trick, a darker shade than usual, to make her irises stand out more, a maroon color melding into black on the fringes, curling upwards to meet the lower edge of her eyebrows. No black eyeliner this time, just a thick layer of kohl on the lower eyelid, and a generous coating of her darkest mascara. Careful to curl her lashes as best she could, she went slowly – big eyelashes, or rather, big eyes in general, drove men crazy. Gold better like this; kohl was a bitch to acquire (some nonsense about health regulations and lead content). Hey, if it worked for ancient Egyptians all those thousands of years ago, it sure as hell worked for her. Plus, she really liked natural make-up; there was something more satisfying about it than the chemically mixed variety – that kind she avoided mostly because it had been tested on animals. She had tried ordering kohl online at first, but the package got lost in the mail.

Three times.

She concluded that USPS workers were either geographically challenged or Storybrooke was somehow cursed… Nah, idiot workers made more sense. In the end, she managed to wink and nudge and smile the town's pharmacist into whipping some up for her and it was well worth the effort. She just hoped he hadn't sneezed in it while he was making it; while lead content was fine with her, his germs – not so much.

Ruby looked at her reflection and whistled in appreciation. The make-up made her look like a vixen – can't go wrong with that!

She filed her nails short and coated them with several layers of venetian red nail polish. This would go well with the color of the dress she picked out.

It was a mini-dress, cut generously low and revealing more than enough of her breasts to leave men salivating in her wake, and yet still covering just enough to leave a little something to the imagination.

She was particularly proud of her choice of stockings, sheer black thigh-highs ending with a rich strip of crimson lace – they hugged her legs wonderfully, outlining their perfect shape. The thought of hiding her killer legs with a long dress wasn't just inconceivable, it was downright criminal. Showing them off wasn't immodest, merely common sense – why hide her attributes? There was plenty left over that was still concealed, after all.

Now, about jewelry… She couldn't wear anything silver, since it seemed to have an adverse reaction to her skin, turning black and useless upon prolonged exposure (she could never get it to shine again). It was bizarre, but she never delved too deep into it; it was probably just a weird allergy or something. This just meant that she had to buy stuff that wasn't made from it, like plastic for instance, or other metals, precious or not - mostly not; who had money for fancy jewelry? She settled on little golden studs encrusted with a bead of red coral – this was the only expensive piece of jewelry that she owned. The earrings weren't as flashy as what she usually wore, but she concluded that she was already flashy enough in her dress and red, five-inch heels.

With a self-satisfied smirk, she noticed that she would tower over Mr. Gold, and wondered how he would react to being dwarfed by his date (most men had a bit of a height complex – preferred girls shorter than them), but she had absolutely no intention of wearing flats just to make him feel better about being vertically challenged. Let's see how he copes with it!

A part of her really wanted him to hate her for it; then she could stash him back into the "asshole" box in her brain's filing system and be done with him, this dinner nothing more than a failed social experiment to be swept under the rug with the rest of her doomed relationships and sucky first dates.

Now, she would normally keep her assortment of plastic red bracelets, but they sort of made this dress look cheap, and that was the last thing she wanted - Gold would no doubt be dressed to impress, in one of his finest suits, and looking tarty next to him was not an option.

To be fair, her outfit was already sufficiently provocative, but instead of cheap and sleazy, she could make it, at the very least, elegant. She settled for a huge, sparkly red ring on the middle finger of her left hand; it was eye-catching enough for her to not need add anything to the ensemble.

She did a twirl in front of the mirror and grinned. It was perfect! All that was left now was a spritz of her favorite perfume (Burberry – Weekend) and she was ready to go!

A quick glance at her cell revealed that it was quarter to eight, which left her just enough time to apply lipstick and pack her purse with all the necessities – keys, cell, make-up and wet tissues… Oh, also her wallet (not that she expected to be paying for anything, but with Gold, one could never be sure; she half-expected the man to go Dutch). Better safe than sorry.

She took her long, black winter coat, the one she usually avoided, because it was actually freezing outside and catching a cold now would make her unable to work in the diner and give Granny her coronary number two. It also wouldn't help her heart any if she saw her choice of wardrobe and started asking questions about her date for the evening (not that Ruby would give her an honest answer anyways) and last, but not least, because unbuttoning it would be a nice surprise for Mr. Gold. Hell, she'd be surprised if the man's jaw was still attached to his head once all the buttons were pried loose.

After she was done buttoning, she stuffed her red hat into the deep pocket of her coat and headed down the stairs, careful not to trip and break her neck when she was so close to unraveling the biggest mystery this town had to offer.

She locked the door behind her - it's not like anyone ever came to rent a room anyways - and set down the path to where she told him to come pick her up. It was now 8 p.m. sharp, and she could hear the roaring of a car engine as it drove into view; she assumed it was Mr. Gold. The huge black Cadillac came to a full stop next to her, and the passenger door flung open from the inside.

"Good evening, my dear."

Oh, it was him, all right. The endearment and the accent gave it away.

She ducked and got in next to him with a grin: "I thought you would get out of the car and hold the door for me. What, your knee acting up again?" She teased.

Gold gave her an amused look and replied in a mock-serious tone: "I would have done that if my companion had been fashionably late, as ladies tend to be, but alas, I had the misfortune of meeting a punctual woman, for once."

Ruby grinned at that and shut the door once she was settled in the seat. She buckled up and gave him a quick glance as he sped off, already putting distance between them and the inn. It seemed like he had the same idea as her, because his coat was covering the - no doubt amazing suit underneath it, an anthracite gray scarf draped lazily around his neck in a way that didn't allow her to even catch a glimpse of his tie!

This made her squint at him, grumbling slightly.

"What's wrong, dear?"

"Nothing." She lied, trying to sound nonchalant.

He said nothing, but she could see a flicker of a smile dancing in the corner of his lips. Suddenly, she wondered if distracting him would get the car stuck in a ditch.

Ok, dying was a bit too steep a price to see him shocked.

Maybe later.

"Where are we going?" She asked, wondering if he would maybe take her to his house for dinner. It was possible; it's not like he was known for going out, but then again… His residence was a frickin' myth; nobody ever saw the inside of it, and she doubted that he'd break the tradition for her sake.

"To the only half-decent restaurant Storybrooke has to offer."

"Remy's?" Ruby asked, a look between bewilderment and appreciation flashing across her face.

"The very same." Gold nodded.

"I'm warning you in advance, I'm not eating snails." Ruby narrowed her eyes at him.

Gold chuckled at that, actually going as far as closing his eyes and tossing his head back, taking his eyes off the road for several seconds. She found that driving into a ditch over a joke would be even less satisfying than the previous alternative.

"I won't make you order escargot if you don't want to." He flashed her a toothy grin.

Ruby seemed taken aback at this new information: "You know French?" she asked, her eyebrow arched at the perfectly pronounced term.

"The florist?" He grinned, his eyes lit mischievously.

She gave him a look smack in the middle of _"you went there, really?" _and _"bitch please". _

He merely laughed at her expression and replied: "No, no, I don't."

Oh, now she was in the mood to pay him back, and had just the right comeback at the ready: "You don't know Moe French? My, my… I thought you were better informed than that." She snickered.

The way his eyes swerved to her slowly, his mouth slightly agape in what could have been described as mild shock or disbelief, made her grin victoriously on the inside. She waited for an answer but got no verbal one, just a little shake of his head – the way a doting parent would react to his favorite performing some minor act of mischief. It was fairly amusing, she had to admit.

It was hot in the car and she realized that it would be a good idea to unbutton her coat before she began to perspire; no matter how attracted to sweaty women guys seemed to be, she didn't find the prospect appealing at all. The buttons around her neck were the first to go, and she stopped as it reached her cleavage – no point in showing everything. What did he call it all that time ago… Tit for tat? Well, he better reciprocate.

Ok, that was ridiculous. He was driving, for heaven's sake; it's not like he could start undressing all of a sudden and leave the wheel unattended. Also, he had no idea that she wanted to see him lose that expensive-looking coat of his. All for the best, she concluded.

She tried to cross her legs, but suddenly realized that the stupid coat was terribly constricting because she managed to sit in such a way that the fabric folded under her ass. Untangling it now would make her feel awkward. Fidgeting too much would ruin the impression she was trying to make (sexy and childish didn't go well together, at least not in her book, crazy Lolita fetishists be damned). Besides, the age difference was huge already; she didn't need to make it worse. But then, as the thought crossed her mind, Ruby frowned at herself. The whole age thing mattered to other people, not her. The only people whose opinion she valued were Mary Margaret (because she was a kind and supportive person), Ashley (because she was a sweetie, even though she was prone to depression sometimes), and her granny, whom she didn't want to see upset. That was pretty much it.

Ok, the lower buttons needed to go, or she would be stumbling unceremoniously out of the Cadillac once they arrived at their destination, her legs stiff and asleep. She noticed he was glancing her way every couple of seconds, probably amused by the sight and wondering how many buttons it would take to finally reveal the length of her dress.

Four.

There was a compliment carefully hidden in the depths of his dark brown eyes, but he didn't bother verbalizing it. Ah well, the twinkle in his eye and the spark of a grin were enough for her. At least for now.

It seemed that he wouldn't be starting a conversation anytime soon, so she searched for an appropriate thing to say.

"Nice set of wheels you got here, Mr. Gold." She nodded in appreciation, eyeing the luxurious interior, burgundy leather seats in particular. They actually looked a bit out of place, more like fancy armchairs than car seats. In front of her were exquisitely designed wood panels, polished to perfection.

"It gets me from point A to point B, I suppose…" He shrugged it off like it was no big deal. Ruby cast him an incredulous look and couldn't help but comment:

"You, trying to be modest… only makes you sound more shameless." She grinned, her eyebrows quirked upwards.

Gold smirked at that, and gave her a curious glance: "I'm not the one wearing the mini-skirt here, dearie."

It was Ruby's turn to snicker and she replied: "Maybe you should get some glasses; it's not a skirt…"

Gold exhaled sharply, suppressing laughter no doubt, and looked at her sultrily (at least that's what it looked like in the dim light).

"Maybe you should undo a couple more buttons so I could see, hmm?"

Ruby tore her gaze away, her cheeks feeling uncomfortably warm in an instant. Of course he had no way of knowing what she wore, there were still a couple of strategic buttons hiding the entirety of her dress from sight and it wasn't like he had x-ray vision!

"_I swear I'm coming down with foot-in-mouth disease…"_

Instead of staying embarrassed, she decided to get back on track – tonight they were equals; she was no longer a sassy waitress serving him, and he wasn't a snarky loan shark (ok, fine, he _was_, but still…), so it was about damn time to start acting like his intellectual match.

"There will be time for that…" She grinned and licked her lips provocatively.

Sadly, his expression was impossible to read – on the surface, she could see some measure of amusement or approval, but beyond that, his face was inscrutable. Such a shame. Ah well, she could very well take her own advice and wait for the end of this evening. They had time.

The Cadillac came to a sudden halt and she noticed that Gold had just parked it in front of the restaurant.

Time to get this show on the road!

This time she waited patiently for him to turn off the engine and clamber out of the car, wondering if he'd be a gentleman this time around. Sure enough, he walked from his side to hers, her eyes following him every step of the way. Once her door was open, he held it for her as Ruby's slender legs found their way to the pavement. He offered no comments, but she could read that appraising look in his eyes as they measured her. They were definitely off to a good start.

Gold offered his gloved hand (he'd been driving in them) and she took it gracefully, a wide smile stretching on her face once she managed to safely untangle herself from the seat and stand upright. Oh, but this was priceless! He was actually forced to look up at her (which only made her straighten her back more), but he didn't seem to mind, at least not on the outside. By this point, she was well aware that he was more than capable of concealing his feelings completely, so this apparent indifference meant nothing.

He gave the door a slight, nearly delicate push and it closed shut. For someone who supposedly didn't care at all about the car he drove, he was surprisingly considerate. But then again, by the state of the interior, she could guess that he was the kind of man who took good care of his possessions.

_"No, no, no… I won't even go there."_

Once the disconcerting images dissipated from her brain, she shook her head slightly and turned her attention back to Mr. Gold. With the way his gaze traveled towards the entrance to the restaurant, she was urged to take a step forward, falling in easy stride with her companion. He actually walked faster than she would have originally given him credit for, but it wasn't like she could run in five-inch heels either.

When they got to the doors, he held these for her as well, motioning with a sweep of his arm, a clear gesture of _"ladies first_". He didn't even have to say it; it was self-explanatory.

She gave him a benevolent smile and stepped into the dimly lit restaurant.

* * *

_**A/N**_**: Ok, this chapter was initially supposed to be all about the date, but it ended up being whooping 27 pages long, and I was forced to break it up for the sake of the sanity of my poor, overworked beta... I cannot promise an update next week, since the chapter is HUGE, but I can offer a small consolation: the story is finished! The last chapter, as well as the epilogue await editing, and you can rest easy - I am not abandoning this story, the updates will suffer for the sake of quality, but I hope you'll have a lot of fun once you get to read the rest! I had a blast writing out the dinner itself! **

**See you all soon, love to all of you for your continued support and kind words! Hugs for everyone! :D  
**


	12. It's the Actual Date

A waiter appeared in a flash, almost as if he'd been waiting on pins and needles for their arrival, looking tense and slightly uncomfortable, yet admirably determined to do his job. He was young, she noticed, possibly even younger than her, with a curly ginger mop of hair, a rather large nose, and freckles scattered all about his cheeks.

Gold followed immediately after and watched her in silence as the rest of the buttons came undone, revealing the sumptuous venetian red dress underneath. His lips stretched into the slightest of smiles as he stepped behind her, Ruby blinking in confusion for a moment, before realizing what he was trying to do at last, easing the coat off her shoulders.

Mr. Gold folded it over his arm and handed it to the nervous waiter before working on getting his own coat off. Ruby let her eyes wander, focusing on his fingers as they worked to untangle the silk scarf around his neck. There was a hypnotic quality to their movement and she felt like she could spend countless hours doing nothing but staring at their complex little dance. She watched with abated breath as the sleek anthracite suit was revealed, together with a rich crimson-colored shirt, all of it accentuated by a lustrous golden tie. The stark contrast was unexpected but worked surprisingly well. They complemented each other wonderfully, crimson and gold…

Once the waiter hung both of their coats on the hanger, he followed them obediently to the tables. Ruby cast a furtive glance around the room and noticed the place was mostly empty, save for one table where a disheveled lady in her sixties sat, wearing a slinky black dress. It didn't help her, though; she looked borderline anorexic already. There was a rat-faced, stocky guy sitting with her, and neither looked very happy. She suddenly recognized the woman as Storybrooke's very own fur coat supplier. Business must have been dwindling or something, because the woman seemed really displeased for some reason, gulping down drinks like it was nobody's business.

Gold approached a somewhat secluded table and pulled out a chair for her. Ruby sat down and smiled – she wasn't exactly used to such treatment. The most she could expect was a guy to pay for her drinks, and she was careful who she accepted drinks from, not because of potential roofies, but because of men's warped sense of entitlement once the drink has been paid for. This ridiculous notion made her guts churn – one drink didn't mean her immediate and unwavering desire to bed someone, no matter how many deluded men pretended otherwise.

The waiter approached only after they were both comfortably seated and placed two leather-bound menus on their table before withdrawing as quietly as a shadow. He might have been terrified of Mr. Gold or something, but he seemed very efficient at what he did, possessing the uncanny talent for knowing just when he was needed and when it was the right moment to make himself scarce. Ruby couldn't help but notice that little detail, acknowledging that it was a crucial trait for a waiter (at least for those who actually did their job well).

She unfolded her menu and was instantly assaulted by unfamiliar terms - everything was in French, even the short descriptions under the names of the dishes. While she could deduce which parts of the menu belonged to which category, she had little to no clue as to what the dishes actually contained. Not knowing the language was detrimental to her resoluteness to appear as lady-like as possible next to him. Ok, that was virtually impossible; she could try and fake it, but he would know, and she would know that he knows, and then it would all be so very lame… She couldn't have that. Honesty worked best.

"Ok, this menu could have easily been written in Chinese, I'm totally lost… Oh, wait! Escargot! I know not to order that, at least…"

Gold lifted his gaze from the menu and looked at her with an amused sparkle in his eyes. The leather-bound booklet was hiding the lower part of his face, but she assumed he was probably smirking underneath.

"Need a recommendation?" He offered.

"That'd be grand." She flashed him a wolfish and yet, at the same time, endearing smile.

"Well… for starters, which do you prefer, soup or salad?"

Ruby considered this for a moment, and anything liquid held the potential of being spilled or sputtered through her nose in case of any hilarious remarks (which she had a lingering suspicion would ensue as soon as the spoon was in her mouth), and she didn't need greasy stains on her immaculate dress. So not sexy.

"Salad." She answered firmly.

"In that case, I recommend "salade paysanne"; that is what I'll be having."

She cast a scrutinizing glare at her menu, her eyes browsing the page in search of the name.

"Croutons…" She read aloud, one eyebrow quirked up. "What is that?"

Gold showed no signs of finding her stupid and replied good-naturedly: "Crusty bread cubes, add character to an otherwise boring bowl of lettuce."

"Oh." She nodded absent-mindedly. "Is there meat in it?" She wondered, wrinkling her nose at the thought of having nothing but salad.

Gold let out a deep, rumbling chuckle and nodded: "Indeed there is; pork mostly."

"Hmm…" Ruby pondered, it sounded good. "Ok, I'll try that, then."

"Excellent." Gold seemed pleased. "Any preferences for the main course?"

She thought for a moment. She actually had no preferences; she wasn't a particularly fussy eater, even though she never developed a fondness for fish. Venison was a quirky preference of hers, but, in truth, any sort of meat would do.

"Nothing fishy. Meat."

She felt slightly self-conscious about this; her answers were brief and to the point, but they hardly made her look refined, she noticed with a hint of dismay. With a lightning-quick frown, she chided herself for the thought that dared spawn in her head - if he liked her, he might as well like her for who she was; pretending to be something she wasn't was both tiring and pointless.

A slight smile never left his face, and it seemed relaxed somehow, less forced than usual, actually – it looked _genuine_. An authentic smile from Mr. Gold - the world was probably coming to its abrupt end and she stilled for a second, trying to listen for any sounds she assumed a huge burning meteor would be making while hurling through the atmosphere – with her luck, Remy's would probably be the center of impact.

But she heard nothing of the sort, so she assumed things were safe. For now.

"Well, depends on what you prefer, beef, pork, poultry…"

She digested the information for a while, but couldn't decide.

"What's your favorite?" She asked when she ran out of options, only realizing it was kind of a personal question once her mouth closed postfact.

He didn't seem to mind and replied with nearly no hesitation at all: "I find myself somewhat partial to "confit de canard", duck," he explained straight away, sparing her the effort of asking the question that he likely knew was coming and continued: "it's quite delicious."

Ruby tilted her head to the left, appearing deep in thought. Duck wasn't often on her menu, and if a man of his impeccable taste ordered it, it must be good.

"All right." She acquiesced.

Gold gave her a nearly warm smile (where is that comet, must be really close now) and asked one final question: "What about dessert?"

Ruby's eyes narrowed in amusement as her own smile widened; she wasn't sure if he was implying something or not, but the question, however ambiguous, needed an answer.

"I don't know…" She replied honestly, but she suddenly craved cake, something fruity, perhaps. "A cake?" That sounded a bit too tentative for her taste, but his expression remained unchanged.

"Fruit or chocolate?" He asked, unfazed.

She was starting to feel like there were too many choices here and picked one at random without giving it much thought.

"Chocolate."

His lips curled into a wider smile, and even though he attempted to hide it afterwards, his facial muscles proved too stubborn to relax as easily as he had probably hoped. Witnessing this minute loss of self-control was ridiculously satisfying, for whatever absurd reason.

"Well, the éclairs here are pretty good, although the mousse au chocolat is to die for, but you did say cake, so…"

Chocolate mousse? That sounded promising!

"I'll have the mousse then!" She said brightly, a part of her brain with a penchant for stupid puns rearing its ugly head at once, reminding her that _mousse_ sounded a bit too similar to _moose_, and she suddenly had a Godfather flashback, except the bloody head was now of a different kind. She'd find it funny if it wasn't so retarded.

Squashing the thoughts of a moose made entirely of fluffy dark chocolate, and subsequently the reminder her brain just had to supply there about certain _mythical_ properties of chocolate she really could have done without, she was beginning to see how torturous this evening could become, even without any help from him.

"Splendid, I believe we're all set." Gold looked to his right and the skittish waiter approached at once, a notepad at the ready.

"We'll begin with two "Salades paysannes" , followed by "Confit de canard" for the young lady and "Bœuf bourguignon" for me. For dessert, "Mousse au chocolat" and "Crème brulée"." While ordering desserts, he gestured at her with a gentle wave of his hand, so that the boy could tell which was meant for whom.

The waiter scribbled dutifully and mouthed to say something, but Ruby unwittingly cut him off before he could get a word in: "And a bottle of your best red wine."

She was abruptly met by a pair of scared brown eyes, and he gulped as he turned his attention to Mr. Gold, looking at him hopelessly. Gold gave him the slightest of nods in confirmation that she was allowed to make an order without checking with him first and the gangly ginger ran off to the kitchen at once.

Ok, not the most graceful of servers, but one couldn't deny his efforts.

Wait, wait, wait a sec… Did she just…

"_Oh, crap."_ Ruby cursed her thoughtlessness; she had just ordered a bottle of their best (and likely most expensive) wine without bothering to ask him first.

He flashed her a benevolent smile, showing that he wasn't bothered by it one bit. She should have been relieved by that, but the seed of doubt had been sown, and she suddenly felt really foolish. It wasn't the price that worried her; Gold could probably buy the whole restaurant and the souls of all those who worked in it without batting an eye. Still, the nagging fact remained – if there was anyone who knew which wine to order, it was Gold, not her (hell, she didn't even usually drink the stuff).

A detour, her mind needed one, right now. Ruby remembered that offense was the best defense, so she gave him a slightly pouty, mostly playful look and said: "I thought a gentleman was supposed to bring flowers to a date."

Gold responded to this by hiding his mouth behind the knuckles of his left hand, a loud exhale leaving his lips before he could stop the laughter, and his head shook nearly imperceptibly, the swaying of his hair alerting her to the fact.

After he had composed himself, he motioned towards the slender vase on their table. For the first time that evening, Ruby noticed its existence. In it stood a single black rose.

"Is that a cheap way of getting out of the fact you forgot?" She grinned, looking fairly unimpressed, even though she had never seen a black rose before.

He merely smiled mysteriously and added rather smugly: "I would like to point your attention to the other tables."

Ruby did as he said, wondering where this was going. Further inspection of the surrounding tables revealed no roses, just little pot plants of lavender, mostly. Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment as she took another scrutinizing glance at the empty tables, making sure that her original assessment was correct.

Their table was the only one apart. She felt heat rising within, washing over her like a tsunami. The bastard had actually planned the whole thing, and with a stab of anger, she realized that she never would have even _noticed_. He was more capable than she was willing to give him credit for and it made her mad with frustration. There had to be a way of getting back at him somehow.

"_Patience is a virtue…"_ She reminded herself, even though that particular trait was usually in rather short supply.

"You want bonus points for planning this out?" She looked at him incredulously, trying to keep her expression as unimpressed as it was possible and got the feeling she might have overdone it.

"It is not a contest, dearie." He smiled light-heartedly.

Her shoulders dropped, relaxing in spite of herself, to the point where she wasn't even aware how stiff they had been. He was right.

He was bloody right.

_What was she thinking?_

It was just a game, that was what she was thinking. And he played along dutifully, went with it smoothly all this time, giving her no reason to doubt. And now, she could do nothing but. This wasn't right. It was wrong, all wrong, and none of it was a game anymore. They were doing something dangerous here, something that was slowly getting out of hand, and she was powerless to stop it. This whole set up was a trap, the luxurious car, the nearly empty restaurant, the rose he had the foresight to prepare… It all had a meaning. Hey, the man probably didn't go to the toilet without a carefully laid out plan, so a romantic dinner was likely nothing to him, just a trifle.

She looked at the rose, and upon closer inspection, realized that it was a really deep shade of red, almost black, but not quite there yet. There were no black roses in nature, she reminded herself, that was common knowledge. On the other hand, a little known fact was what the flower itself meant. Black was the color of death in western tradition, the color of mourning. But that couldn't be it; he wouldn't get her a flower of such dark meaning, there had to be something else here.

A red rose stood for passionate love, everyone knew that, but a red rose this dark… Its meaning lay somewhere in between, Ruby knew, but couldn't put her finger on it. She never put much stock in flowers, let alone researched obscure references or whatnot.

The waiter appeared out of nowhere carrying their salads and Ruby sighed in relief, no more torturous symbolism, just delicious food! She felt her good mood return as she looked at her bowl and was forced to admit that it looked really appetizing.

"Bon appétit." Gold said and gave her a small nod. Ruby managed a weak smile in response and dug in, hoping that good food would dispel this weird mood she was being dragged through.

After a couple of mouthfuls, she let out a blissful sigh and slumped in her chair, her eyes closed as she savored the taste.

"Enjoying yourself?" Gold asked, his voice underlined with curiosity and just a shadow of a tease.

"You can't tell?" Her perfectly shaped eyebrows raised in wonder. "Are you one of those men that need constant validation to make sure you're doing things right?"

Gold's eyes went wide for a fraction of a second before he managed to get his face in order, amusement flickering on his thin lips as she was busy blushing behind her thick façade and fervently hoping the shade wasn't violent enough to crack the barrier and bleed through.

"I'd like to think not." He said simply, his voice positively dripping with a fake, veiled attempt at modesty.

He could pretend to be all innocent, even though he was anything but.

"Ok, what is this brown stuff?" She asked, the abrupt change of topic nearly _painful_ as she scrambled desperately for safer territories.

"I'm not sure you want to know." Gold feigned concern and continued to eat his salad serenely.

"If it's snails I will _murder_ you." Ruby warned with a stone-cold expression that demonstrated firm conviction.

Gold laughed softly and said: "Oh, no… It's not snails." His expression seemed sincere, so she laid off the aggressive stance, but still waited for an answer, refusing to eat a single bite until he deemed it fit to reveal what it was that she was eating.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Gold tried to wash his hands of the entire affair. That wouldn't fly.

"You actually didn't, but say it anyways." Ruby insisted.

Gold seemed amused and offered a single word in response: "Kidneys."

Ruby blinked, her face frozen momentarily. It seemed like her mind split into two camps, two armies waiting patiently, each on their own side of the field, sizing each other up. One regiment was definitely not pleased with the prospect of having eaten entrails, no matter how delicious they were, and the other one was decidedly more pragmatic – it was just food, good food no less, and making a fuss over it was pretty pointless. Her conflict must have been evident, seeing how Gold decided to share his thoughts:

"I didn't peg you for a girl with a weak stomach."

Ruby frowned as she tried really hard to avoid bloodshed on her little mental battlefield, urging the two generals to duke it out in single combat to spare the rest of the troops. His words shook her out of indecisive stupor and she looked at him sharply. One of her combatants was winning.

"I'm not…" It wasn't a very inspired answer, but she was spared the need to elaborate when the waiter showed up with their wine.

"Finally." Ruby realized she had pronounced it a bit too spitefully when the poor boy flinched, the glasses rattling slightly on the tray as he tried to steady them hastily. He poured wine for the both of them and after Gold gave him a little nod, he bowed his head and scurried away in as dignified a manner as possible. Poor guy, by the end of this evening he would probably be as scared of her as he was of the loan shark. She watched the refined (no less vicious for it) man in front of her as he cast a brief glance at the bottle, a slight sneer blooming on his face. She wondered what that was about.

Gold delicately raised his glass in toast, and she mimicked the motion with a gentle tilt of her head.

Ruby observed the clear, crimson liquid swirling in her glass before taking a sip. She hoped to God that this wine would justify the label of the best this restaurant had to offer, because forcing an inferior wine on her presumably gastronomically picky date was embarrassing, to say the least.

She must have made a really interesting face, because Gold grinned wider than usual as he set his glass down on the table.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Again, that knowing little smile of his. Trouble was brewing behind his deceptively pleasant façade; she could practically feel its noxious emissions wafting from his skin and creeping up on her like a nerve gas.

"I rather hoped you would tell me."

She raised an eyebrow speculatively. Was he asking her opinion on the subject?

"I know nothing about wine." Ruby answered truthfully, supplying her statement with a slight shrug.

"You must have a personal opinion; that is more than enough."

His expression was inscrutable and she fervently hoped that his sudden attentiveness wouldn't take a nasty turn towards mockery. She had a nagging feeling that he couldn't help but laugh at people inferior to him; it wasn't perhaps fully intentional or entirely malicious, but it was more than enough to make anyone extremely uncomfortable.

"Fine." She sighed: "Just don't expect a fancy review or anything." Ruby watched him intently, waiting for a reply or a reaction, but he seemed content to wait. It was obvious he would remain that way until she shared her thoughts, and it was kind of silly; who knew that the terrible Mr. Gold could be stubborn? Pushing the thoughts of how cute that was to the very back of her head (into the incinerator, preferably), she caved in and proceeded to elaborate.

"I feel like I've been drinking water spiked with glitter… It tastes like… fairy piss."

Gold started to chuckle soundlessly, the muscles in his neck contracting as he allowed good humor to take over. Ruby felt slightly embarrassed, but sufficiently assured that he was laughing at her joke, rather than her.

"I mean, it starts full of promise, but then leaves you dry." She realized the potential for misinterpretation of what she had just said, but chose not to show it. Hopefully, he'd be way too amused to pay attention.

Just when reading Gold's facial expression was getting more and more interesting, the shaky waiter made a reappearance, carrying their main courses. Ruby frowned at the interruption and the gangly creature faltered when faced with the dirty look she gave him, but busied himself with taking Mr. Gold's empty bowl. She wasn't done with her own salad, but handed him the half-empty dish anyways, realizing that he would likely be too scared to ask her whether or not it was ok to take it away.

He accepted it gracefully, and, immediately after placing their dishes on the table, pulled a disappearing act worthy of Houdini. Ruby had to admit that she was left mildly impressed. She rather hoped that Gold would leave the poor boy a generous tip for the years they have both undoubtedly taken off his life tonight. With a sudden onslaught of glee, she wondered if she'd be able to discern a graying streak in his ginger hair by the end of the night.

She took a bite out of the succulent duck leg and felt the tender meat melt in her mouth. This was, by far, the best thing she had ever tasted in her life. She could now see why this was Mr. Gold's favorite dish; it was rich and exquisite, much like the man himself.

"_Ok, no midnight skinny dipping in the gutter, please… Ok, brain? Got that? Thank you."_

It was hard to stay embarrassed when the food was so good; even the disappointing wine seemed less awful. The duck was magical. She risked a glance at her companion, only to find him absorbed in his own meal, looking unusually pleased.

Gold, pleased? That was a rare sight! She assumed that good food made anything better, even sour individuals like the town's most hated dealmaker. He was a villain all right; his name, if spoken at all, was always uttered in hushed tones, like he was able to hear them from a mile away, or in anger and resentment if the person speaking ill of him was sure that the man in question was on the other side of the town at the time. But there had to be more to him than that; nobody was this simple. Especially not someone this capable of instilling bone-chilling terror into everyone. Why would he find joy in tormenting all of Storybrooke's inhabitants? Could it really be as simple as a morbidly pronounced materialistic streak? Somehow, that wasn't it, her intuition was pretty sure of that – the pawnbroker had an agenda, he must have; he was too smart not to see the benefits of not being a cruel bastard to everyone around him, so why? She could stay here for hours, staring at him, and still not get any closer to the answer she sought. What to do? You could get anything you wanted from him, for a price; he was a man of deals, after all, and she wondered what kind of arrangement she would have to make with him to find out what she wanted to know. If her soul wouldn't suffice, maybe something else could…

"Can I try that?" She asked him boldly. This had the potential to turn ugly, but after that dream, she was fairly sure she'd be able to keep a straight face no matter what he decided to throw at her. She was met by a pair of inquisitive brown eyes as he swallowed a bite. Decidedly ignoring the fork and the memories it evoked, she watched the fleeting moment of indecision on his face with grim satisfaction.

"Something wrong with your canard, dearie?"

The endearment stung like a bee, but she decided to ignore it for now, and get back at him for daring to use it later.

"Nope. I just wanna try what you ordered." She hoped she came across sufficiently nonchalant (one could dream).

"Greedy, aren't we?" He snickered, enjoying himself a bit too much for her taste.

"Oh, I know _you_ are." She replied, straight to the point. This was daring, even by her standards, but she decided that something had to be done – nothing ventured, nothing gained! One of his eyebrows shot up, but he seemed no less pleased despite the slight surprise she thought she saw on his face before he managed to successfully turn it into something else. Ruby was inwardly quite pleased by turning his choice of words against him: take that, you smug bastard! Oh, but this was no time for self-satisfaction; he was a devious old fox, and would no doubt come up with something amazing to challenge her wits.

"I guess that makes both of us, then."

This confession was slightly surprising, but he delivered the line with a grin, so… Who knew what was going on in his head? With time, were she allowed closer, she could probably take a more accurate guess, but, for now, his secrets were safely locked in whatever vault he kept them in. Still, the fact remained, he admitted to having a character flaw, and honesty wasn't something he was known for. If Sydney knew, he would probably publish it on the front page tomorrow (unless their little dinner date came to light; that was, after all, a pretty juicy piece of information.)

"So, will you give me a taste or not?" She observed his face with utmost scrutiny, noticing the subtle twitch of his nose, a moderate smile never leaving his lips.

"We will scandalize everyone, my dear."

Again with the endearments. Ruby's patience was slowly growing thin.

"I say we give them something to _really_ talk about." She grinned shamelessly.

He let out an exaggerated sigh of defeat and did exactly what she was hoping he would, being all sneaky, and a monumental tease to boot. He cut a piece of beef on his plate and extended the fork her way, stopping once his hand passed the middle of their table. She reconsidered the possibility of prophetic dreams as she re-enacted the movement. Ruby got up slowly, with careful calculation, looking at the piece of meat in front of her eyes like nothing else mattered in the world, her white teeth glinting through an unsuppressed wolfish grin. She held her hair to the side so it wouldn't fall all over her plate and leaned closer, closing her mouth around the bait he was holding out in front of him. She opened her eyes as her lips slid off the gleaming fork and then settled into her seat, chewing slowly and maintaining eye contact throughout the whole thing. He withdrew his hand only to rest it against his chin, the utensil now pointing downwards. The man seemed amused, and there was an unmistakable look of appraisal on his features, like he was determining her value for the first time. She didn't know how to feel about that.

"Delicious." She determined. Better not show him what she was actually feeling; this game was far too engaging to ruin it by something as trivial as that.

"I'm glad you approve." He smiled, his eyes alight with the mischief she was slowly getting very intimately acquainted with.

Ruby glanced around to see if the only two remaining people in the restaurant noticed their little exchange, and caught the beady-eyed man staring at them, his gaze dropping fast once he noticed her attention. Awesome! The rumor mill will be working overtime tomorrow.

She poured herself another glass of the inferior vintage and drank it happily, feeling oddly giddy all of a sudden. Wine wasn't usually her drink of choice, but this evening was different, and she felt like commemorating the occasion. When would be the next time someone took her out to dinner to such a luxurious place? Most likely never. So she might as well commit it all to memory.

"I thought you positively hated the wine, dearie." Gold pointed out with an expectant look.

Ok, that was it. She had had it with those stupid, condescending little words he stuck at the end of every other sentence he made. Choosing to show him the exact extent of her displeasure, she frowned deeply and pursed her lips in annoyance.

"Stop using that word with me." That came out a bit grouchy, but she rather hoped it would get the point across.

He seemed slightly confused and his half-formed smirk dissolved all of a sudden. That was a good start.

"Whatever do you mean?" He asked, his expression reserved. She wasn't sure if he was genuinely confused or merely feigning ignorance. Both were a distinct possibility.

"I mean dear, dearie, my dear and whatever else you use when you want to make people feel insignificant. Ok, dear you use with everyone, but dearie is reserved for the times when you're either mad at someone, or you wanna show them how worthless you think they are, or you do it to make fun of them. So… Whatever you decide to call me, please…just… don't use those, ok?"

Gold looked shocked and pleased at the same time, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Interesting…" He muttered.

"What is?" This was it; as rare a moment of honesty as she was ever going to get out of him, and she could hardly wait, going stiff in her chair in anticipation.

"The fact that you caught that." A dazzling grin flashed across his face as he relaxed in his chair.

"Don't tell me I'm the first person in this town that noticed?" Ruby looked at him in disbelief.

He seemed deep in thought for a moment, and then shared his findings: "Wouldn't you know it, it seems that you are."

Ruby still couldn't believe it. Were people around here really that unperceptive? It would be scary if it wasn't so pathetic.

"Am I really the first, or did you get rid of the real first person that found out, and buried them in the woods?"

"Why do you assume that I would hide the body in the woods?" It was teasing, plain and simple.

"Well, it sounds like a much better option than dumping the corpse in a well." She stated, sounding very sure of her conclusion.

"Sleeping with the fishes? Do I look like a mobster to you?" Gold snickered and it was obvious he was enjoying this humorous sparring just as much as she was.

"Well… As a matter of fact…" She pointed her outstretched palms at him like she was presenting an obvious fact and he was the only evidence needed. "You look the part. You act the part… Hey, if it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck… You know." She finished, feeling strangely elated.

His silent laughter was nice to hear, the wrinkles around his eyes suddenly more pronounced than ever.

"That duck will never quack again, pet." He pointed at her plate using the fork that never left his hand.

She blinked back confusion for a moment and then burst out laughing. About a minute later, when her cheeks started to hurt, her eyes fluttered open only to witness a look of endless amusement plastered on his face. A moment of startling clarity flashed behind her eyes, as a connection sparked into existence, forming a thin, pale blue line. Careful not to let it slip, she grabbed onto it, submitting it to inspection.

The joke was a cleverly disguised attempt at changing the topic! He was _very_ good, but she could almost follow his pace now, and there was no way she would give up now, not when she was so close to bringing down her prey.

"Nice try, Mr. Gold." She smirked smugly, narrowing her eyes, giving him an extremely pointed _I-have-you-all-figured-out_ look.

"I have no idea what you mean." The pawnbroker feigned ignorance and proceeded to take a sip, undoubtedly in an attempt to camouflage the blooming, toothy smile she could still discern behind the crimson-tinted glass.

"Modesty doesn't suit you." She chided him gently.

"Clever girl." This was said in a hushed tone, almost as if he was worried about being overheard, a hint of pride seeping through the elaborately constructed mask of mock-offense he had drawn over his face.

She sat up straight, feeling absurdly accomplished. He could compliment her all he wanted, it still wouldn't derail her from the issue at hand, and she'd make damn sure he knew that.

"Still, I expect you to stop calling me that way." Her voice was firm and gave away nothing but iron determination when this was concerned.

The man seemed pensive for a moment, and then, as he set his nearly empty glass back on the table, gave her a look she couldn't decipher.

"You know what? I'll make you a deal."

Oh, she could see something there; his eyes twinkled in a way that revealed the true nature of a trickster in their alluring depths. There was an undeniable summon in his gaze, a welcoming, yet deceptive pull. It was almost mesmerizing in nature, and she suddenly wondered if Mr. Gold ever came to Dr. Hopper for a session, in which case one of them would end up under hypnosis after a staring contest.

"Oh?" Ruby asked, undeniably intrigued, but still cautious.

"If you dislike those, choose something else. And I will use that from now on."

Ok, this had to be a trap of some kind; he never made deals unless they were in his favor. She raised an eyebrow in suspicion and asked tentatively: "And what do I have to give you in return?"

He gave her a brief incredulous look and answered with a conspiratorial little grin: "This one is… free of charge."

"Nothing is free with you." _"I know you better than that."_

"You wound me." He pretended to be hurt, his hand splayed across his chest theatrically.

She didn't know why, but this childish side of him was as endearing as it was disturbing.

"I don't make exceptions very often…" He acknowledged. "Not that anyone would know even if I did." Ruby couldn't be sure if this qualified as baring his soul, or if he was just trying to amuse her; his lopsided grin suggested the latter, but the contents of his sentence also hinted at the fact she was already certain of – nobody in this town knew what he was really about.

"So, how do you want me to address you?" He asked, feigning slight disinterest by eating.

Once she actually gave it some thought, the issue was much more complicated than she would have originally believed. Once "dear", "my dear" and "dearie" were out of the loop, there weren't very many options left. He could always call her "Miss Lucas", but they were way past that point, and it would sound pretty forced to use the term now, all of a sudden. Her name was also out of the question, but this she would rather avoid for purely personal reasons. Yes, this definitely wouldn't work.

"There's a problem…" Lost in her thoughts for a moment, she was grateful for the fact that he said nothing.

"I don't think anything is supposed to change on the outside. If you suddenly start calling me differently, people would notice, eventually…"

Why did these words sound so disgusting in her mouth? It was like she was ashamed of associating with him, which she _should _be, in every way imaginable, but had to admit, with a heavy heart, that she wasn't. She didn't really care about what others thought; her reputation wasn't exactly stellar to begin with, even though it would likely be dragged through the mud if this ever became public knowledge. Ruby was torn between wanting to shake this uptight little town at its foundation and not rocking the boat too much.

"The good folk of Storybrooke are fairly oblivious." Gold pointed out.

"True… But Granny is sharp; she would notice and then I'd be out of a job, out of the house, she'd probably disinherit me as well, not to mention burn all my stuff on the front lawn and –"

"I get the picture." Gold chuckled slightly, staying her stream of words with a palm in the air.

"Well, if you do, then you know that in public, nothing should change… Now, in private…" She trailed off.

"_This is not an open invitation, it's not an invitation at all, not immoral, just a suggestion. Yep. Nothing more. Besides, when are we ever going to be alone together again? Never. Right. No harm done."_

"Yeah, in private, you can use whatever name you want, I guess."

This was such a bad idea.

"You really should be more specific when making a deal."

She raised an eyebrow at his carefully masked warning and immediately knew he was right, but was momentarily all out of ideas.

"What are my options?" She sighed in resignation.

"The first would be… my sweet?" He offered with a smirk.

She pursed her lips in disappointment. "No. Next."

He laughed and tried again: "Then, how about… darling?"

"Too Peter Pan." She said flatly. Movie references came surprisingly easy. He laughed softly while shaking his head, looking like he had no idea what to do when faced with an impetuous child. "Anything else?" She asked audaciously, her voice carrying a challenge.

"Well, our next options would be… pet? Or… "Here he stopped, looking straight into her eyes, drawing out the moment, making sure he had her full attention.

Of course he did, the idiot. The suspense was killing her.

"…love?" He finished with a sly grin.

She inhaled sharply through her nose, feeling uncomfortably warm. The bastard was pushing her buttons left and right, and even though it was obvious that he was just teasing her, the word still managed to jostle her.

"Is that a British thing?" She frowned at him, arms crossed over her chest.

He let out an amused chortle and nodded. "You could say that."

"Well, love sounds a bit… err…" Unsure of how to phrase it, and distinctly aware of how thoroughly embarrassing she looked, she decided to just get it over with. It was like ripping off a band-aid. "No, okay… Just no. And pet…"

The silence was _palpably_ uncomfortable.

"It's a British thing?" She squeezed out like she was seeking confirmation.

Gold closed his eyes and nodded briefly, looking thoroughly amused in the process: "Yes, it's a British thing."

With a monumental sigh, she slumped in her chair and acquiesced. "Fine… Pet will work. Just don't abuse it."

"I would never!" He played outraged. It managed to come across as outrageously funny.

"I'm serious." She looked at him with disapproval.

Ruby watched his teasing expression soften into something almost tender as his voice dropped a notch lower. It came out really quiet, but somehow clear enough: "So am I."

There it was. This was the thing she had caught for the first time at the sheriff's station, the lurking outline hiding on the very fringe of her peripheral vision, and she finally managed to catch the elusive shape, casting light on it, trapping its shadow.

It seemed like they have reached an agreement, a mutually acceptable one at that. His assurance felt genuine, heartfelt, almost… _reverent_. She felt, for the first time, like she could trust him, put her faith in him, and not get betrayed. It was a brittle feeling, but it was there. Content, she directed her attention back to her plate; it would be a crime to let this divine meal go to waste.

Just when she was about to take another bite, the sound of shattering glass drew her attention. Since there was nobody but them and the crazy fur lady in the restaurant, she assumed the drinks had finally caught up with the woman and deprived her of motor skills essential for keeping the alcohol coming to her mouth.

"Garçon!" The skeletal, wild haired hag shouted louder than necessary. Ruby had a distinct feeling this would prove very amusing. She ate and listened attentively; this was about to get ugly.

"Carla…" Her rat-faced companion spoke with urgency and a thick French accent. "You've 'ad too much to drink, 'nough for ze night?"

"Shut up, you incompetent fool! I don't pay you to deny me drinks!" Here she hiccoughed loudly and yelled: "Waiter! Where are you, blasted boy!"

The ginger practically ran to her table, head bowed low, and tried to appease his disgruntled guest.

"More drinks, boy!" She swayed on her feet, arms flailing about wildly as both men tried to steady her.

"I'm terribly sorry, Madame Devlin, but I think it would be better for you to go home…" The freckled boy tried to convince her as subtly as he could, but it was to no avail; the woman was as stubborn as she was drunk.

"I should bring you your check, Madame, and you could have your companion –"

"Money, money, money! It's all about money! You useless lout!" Ruby was forced to stifle a giggle as the woman started to beat the poor boy with her shiny black purse. He tried to cover his head in defense, but the woman kept beating him over it, never ending her torrent of insults: "You all want money, and I want my martini, but noooo, why should Carla get her martini? Take that, you mongrel, you ingrate!"

Ruby couldn't believe her eyes. She cast the briefest of glances towards her companion and was relieved to see that she wasn't the only one going to hell for laughing at the poor lad's misery. Gold was a lot more subtle about it, though.

"We should go, Carla, let's go…"

"I'll never come here again, never, you hear me!" She screeched as her stocky companion started dragging her away from the mistreated employee, hauling the unwilling harpy to the door.

"M.. m… Madame!" The waiter fumbled: "Your bill…" He was wide-eyed and scared, and Ruby felt a surge of sympathy for his plight – she knew all too well what it felt like when a customer ran off without footing the bill.

"Take it, take it all, you leech!" She screamed, her voice breaking midway as she stumbled and hurled her purse at the frightened ginger. He evaded the leather projectile like a professional dodgeball player and turned to see where it landed (it smashed into a framed black-and-white photograph of the Eiffel tower). The picture frame crashed to the floor, smitten by the expertly flung accessory, and there was a recognizable sound of breaking glass.

"Let me drive, Carla…" The rat man tried to maneuver her through the door (she ran into the door frame when she attempted it on her own).

"It's my car – let me go, you overgrown baboon!"

Loud barking could be heard from the outside and the hysterical woman stopped swaying.

"Let go!"

"It's just a dog, Carla…"

"Just a dog?" She shrieked, hands flying to her head and Ruby thought for a moment that the crazy woman would start pulling her hair off.

"The next dog that marks my car as his territory I'll turn into a coat!" She snarled and stumbled out the door, marching resolutely to the parking lot, not bothering to wait for her stumpy companion who was trying to rip her huge fur coat off the hanger in haste, running after her, already out of breath.

Ruby was shaking with noiseless laughter, her eyes watering. Then she looked at her date. The man was remarkably poised, eating his dinner completely undisturbed. Their gazes locked and she could see his thin lips quivering – he was attempting to hide his amusement, but failed miserably because she could still see it in his flickering eyes.

"I should warn Archie to keep Pongo away from her car…"

"A wise choice." Gold agreed.

Ruby took a swig of fairy urine to calm her nerves and continued to eat. The food was almost cold by this point. There was a sound of screeching tires outside, followed closely by a metallic bump (whether it was a lamp post or the mail-box, Ruby could only guess). She giggled and returned to her dinner.

She could hear the abused waiter sweeping up the glass and wondered if there was even enough money in that purse to cover Carla's binge drinking session. Well, she would make sure Gold left him a handsome tip, in hope that it would assuage some of the psychological damage. Then he could, at least, pay for therapy with Dr. Hopper.

Once her plate was clean, she smiled and poured herself another glass of wine, waiting for their desserts to arrive. Gold dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin and she found it _hilarious_. She burst out laughing and held her stomach, realizing that she suddenly had an overwhelming urge to pee. Clutching her red satin purse, she excused herself.

The restroom was easy to find and after she was done with what she came in there to do, she washed her hands and gave herself a thorough once-over, trying to determine any damage to her make-up from all that excessive laughing. She ran her wet hands on the back of her neck, exhaling gloriously. Her hazel eyes glinted in the mirror and she couldn't believe that was her reflection staring back at her – she was radiant, her smile more dazzling, her skin almost glowing. It was a strange feeling. Maybe that wine wasn't completely useless after all.

She straightened her dress, checked for any signs of fraying on her stockings (there were none) and she cast one last glance at the mirror to see if her lipstick needed reapplying. Sure enough, it did, but her lips looked just fine like this, the color slightly faded in the middle. She'd just leave it like this.

Once she was out of the restroom and back at her table, she was pleased to notice her dessert already served. Gold hadn't touched his yet; he had obviously been waiting for her. It was kind of sweet, if not entirely misguidedly gentlemanly.

She sat down and gave him a dazzling smile as she picked up her spoon. He replied in kind, even though his own smile was considerably less toothy. One spoonful of the chocolate mousse was enough to make her groan. It was melting so deliciously on her tongue, the flavor incredibly rich, sweet and slightly spicy at the same time (that didn't make any sense, but she dismissed it). Her eyes fluttered open and Gold was looking at her, his own spoon past his lips. That devilish little twinkle in his eyes was probably due to her making inappropriate noise while eating. Well boo-hoo, she felt fabulous and nothing could change that.

"What? It's good!" She mumbled in self-justification, her mouth full.

"I didn't say anything." The smug beast raised his hands defensively, feigning innocence.

"You didn't have to." She observed shrewdly.

"Touché." That little glimmer of pride she caught before suddenly got more pronounced. He seemed at ease, and she got the feeling that he was not wearing as many masks as usual. It made her wonder how many more there were to take off before she would get to see his true face.

The delicious mousse didn't last long and she felt like something was missing.

"Give me a bite?" She asked perkily, flashing him a brilliant grin.

He laughed then, fully, louder than she ever heard him, a deep rumbling sound unfurling from his throat.

Ruby was momentarily transfixed - Mr. Gold looked happy.

The world was coming to an end.

"I could always order one for you, pet." He smirked, some of his usual calculated self slipping back into place.

She pursed her lips in displeasure. "I don't want the whole thing… Just a taste."

"Do you now?" One of his eyebrows shot up, his tongue resting on one of his canines as he eyed her speculatively.

By this point, she knew they were on the same wavelength.

"Is that so bad?" She asked, trying to pull off her most adorable puppy-eyed look.

"Be careful what you wish for…" He sang lightly.

"Caution is overrated." She dismissed it with a lazy wave of her hand. He was trying to warn her, or at least that was what it sounded like, but no cigar. It was too late in the game to get cold feet now. The fact that he bothered to warn her showed her several things: first, he was not entirely aware of how invested she was (or was in denial – a common male trait); second, he cared enough about her "virtue" to show her that there was still a way out; and third, he was hesitating for some reason.

Penny for his thoughts? Oh, she'd pay a pretty penny to know the exact reason why he would hesitate, but, for now, didn't dare venture a guess.

"It's dangerous to stray off the path, pet… Didn't your granny warn you?"

She chuckled at the fairy tale reference, finding the implication endlessly amusing.

"Nope, but she did tell me not to take candy from strange men." She grinned wolfishly.

Mr. Gold leaned his nose against the palm of his right hand and trembled with suppressed laughter for a moment, Ruby beaming at him. She seemed to have a knack for making him laugh and found it immensely satisfying.

"But you're not a stranger, so it's ok." She added, hoping for a new surprising reaction on his part, and threw in a sassy little wink for good measure.

He gave her a look of moderate disbelief and a small measure of warmth crept into his eyes. That look made her want to reach out and pet his hair. She was grateful for the interruption as a silver spoon floated her way, covered with the sweetly scented cream and a reddish, sparkly shard of burnt sugar crust. She went about it even slower this time, but didn't look him in the eye; she kept hers closed as she hovered above the table with the spoon in her mouth. There was something profoundly intimate about this and it felt nothing like the previous food-sharing experience.

When her lips finally left the gleaming utensil behind, she floated back into her seat and smiled serenely.

"My offer still stands." He reminded her.

"Nah…" She waved it off as her eyes opened and she felt blissfully content. "This was enough, thank you."

He gave her the tiniest of shrugs and proceeded to finish his dessert. Ruby felt a sudden pang of guilt. The ambiguity of their conversation so far suggested a different sort of meaning to her words just now, and that was not the intended message at all.

A brilliant idea formed in her head.

A man that refined (and into antiques) must have a wine collection – if not to drink it, then at least to admire an old vintage forever gathering dust in a basement, its value increasing with time, just like the interest on all that money he had hoarded in the bank. It just made _sense_.

She let out a monumental sigh as she looked into her glass, swirling the crimson liquid of failure in it, appearing deeply immersed into the motion.

"Feels like such a shame to drink this after a dessert that good."

She wondered if he was half as sharp as she thought and waited in nervous anticipation for his reaction.

"Sadly, Remy's is not known for its wine list."

Ruby made a grumbling noise and let her gaze fly up, coupling it with a surprised revelation sort of gasp: "Hey, do you have a wine cellar?"

"Why are you asking?" The man seemed puzzled.

"You sneered at the label when you saw it." She looked at him, trying to mimic that patent knowing little smile of his. "Which means you know good wine when you see it. Makes perfect sense."

"_Flawless logic is flawless. High-five, babe!"_

"Our young Sheriff might find himself replaced, one of these days…" Gold said gingerly.

"Stop avoiding my question." Ruby pointed out mercilessly.

Gold assumed an indulgent expression and did as he was told through an entertained sigh: "As luck would have it, I do."

Ruby snorted, thinking how luck had absolutely _nothing_ to do with it.

"Awesome." She grinned widely.

"Whatever do you want with my wine cellar, pet?" He inquired, looking mischievously curious. Oh, he was already abusing the pet bit.

"Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

This would be good. He gave her an amused look, but said nothing.

"Or am I not allowed in your house?" That was a legitimate question; it's not like he was renowned for his hospitality.

He licked the left corner of his lips and gave her an answer after pondering for a moment, his eyes fixed upon her.

"I might make an exception… Just this once."

Ruby grinned triumphantly and teased him right back: "You seem to be making a lot of exceptions for me tonight."

She expected an answer along the lines of: "More than you know, pet" but he offered something else.

"Well… You _are_ an exceptional woman."

She felt a violent blush erupt in her cheeks at his unexpected compliment. Calculated or not, it still felt damned good.

"Ok, then… What are we still doing here?" She smiled widely, fidgeting slightly in her chair.

He seemed amused by her impatience but made no comments, opting to summon the waiter instead. As if he had it prepared in advance (wait, he actually did), the freckled boy materialized at their table with a leather booklet which presumably held their check. He retreated afterwards and left them alone. Ruby fumbled about for her purse, fishing for her wallet.

"What _are_ you doing?" Gold asked, sounding slightly upset, mildly curious, and for the most part, annoyed. Disbelief was a funny color on him.

"Oh, so we're not going Dutch?" She provoked. He had no idea what she was doing, and she wanted to use that to her advantage.

He gave her a questioning look, suddenly more serious than she had the chance to see this evening.

"You insult me." His thin lips curled into a slightly self-satisfied smile and she laughed.

"I'm just making sure the poor thing gets a decent tip." She handed Mr. Gold a twenty dollar bill, dazzling him with the brightest of grins in her arsenal.

He cast a brief glance at the bill, then back at her, and undoubtedly saw that she wouldn't budge an inch. The usually vicious loan shark folded, slipping the piece of paper from her fingers and tucking it into the leather binding. She saw him fishing for money in his own wallet, but couldn't discern exactly how much money he took out.

Gold must have noticed the doubt in her eyes, and he put her mind at ease.

"He will be _very_ happy once he opens it." He seemed awfully sure about it, too.

"He deserves it. Especially with Carla and everything. Besides, he'll need it to get his PTSD treated."

"Mhm." Gold nodded solemnly, a soft chuckle vibrating in his throat.

He rose gracefully and held out his hand to her. Ruby failed to suppress a grin (her face was starting to hurt already, but screw it) and took it delicately.

They took a step away from the table when she suddenly stopped.

"Wait!" She moved away, leaning towards the table and ignoring his quizzical look. After snatching the rose from the vase, she returned to his side proudly and exclaimed: "Hey, you got it for me, not the waiter."

"You're quite right." He admitted with a lopsided grin.

The rest of the night showed promise!

* * *

_**A/N: **_**I'm sorry it took so long, my lovelies, but this was a huge chapter, after all... Brace for impact in two weeks, the rating will go up a notch! ;P**


	13. The Rules of Engagement

_**A/N:  
**_

**Fair warning to all readers - this chapter's rating is bumped up to M for sexual content.  
**

**I'm sorry it took so long, but this chapter is huge, and I sincerely hope you'll find it was worth the wait - I'd hate to disappoint! Just keep in mind that this was my first attempt at smut, so... be kind. XD  
**

**Without further ado, here is the last grand chapter of Crimson Gold! Enjoy, dearies! :D  
**

* * *

They had been driving in silence for ten minutes and, to her surprise, it wasn't an awkward sort of silence, more of a companionable one, like they had shared all there was on their minds, and there was no point in adding anything. Still, her mind wandered as the supple leather of her seat sent a cool sort of tingle through her slender fingers. She caressed it absent-mindedly, the warm, wine-induced haze in her head dissipating somewhat. Ruby cast a furtive glance his way, wondering what was going through his head at that very moment, but his face revealed nothing. He seemed calm and collected, but nothing more than that. Was this one of his pensive looks? Or a scheming one? Could it be Gold at his rarest, actually relaxed?

No, that couldn't be it. Now that she was going into the lair of the town's resident monster, she realized a bit late that the amount of information accumulated over their time spent together wasn't all that much; mostly her intuition trying to fill in the blanks the man was so adept at producing. It wasn't too late to change her mind now, give a feeble excuse along the lines of being tired or having a headache (that wine could take the fall quite nicely), but doing so would ruin this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to find out more about him, and she didn't want to blow it.

"Does every single thing you own have to be an antique?" Ruby mused, realizing with a startle that the words chose to come out of her mouth instead of staying in her head, where they belonged.

"Not everything…" He answered slowly. "Though it is true that they don't make them like they used to…"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were _nostalgic_." A smug little smirk tugged on her lips.

"I'm merely stating a fact, pet." After the briefest of glances, his eyes were fixed on the road once more and Ruby felt uncomfortably warm again. That little nickname which he managed to trick her into accepting (it was her own damn fault, though), even though under different circumstances coaxing a "_well played_" from her lips, was infuriating instead, almost causing her to forget the original plan.

Ruby wanted to complain, but then the engine stopped.

Blinking in confusion, her head turned to the driver.

"We've arrived."

"Already?" That was pretty fast.

"They do say that time flies when one's having fun." He teased. This fairy wine was getting to her; the stuff worked in waves, apparently.

This time, she didn't wait for him to open the door, choosing instead to stretch her legs and get a better look of his house. The mansion (for it surely deserved the title) was much too big for one person to live in, but she suspected that it probably served as storage space for the mountains of junk he had managed to collect over the years. He was a bachelor, after all, and she suddenly got the feeling that she might be greeted by a sight straight out of a "Hoarders" episode, and shuddered at the thought. If his house was like that, there was no way she'd be going into that cellar, promise of vintage wine and mind-blowing sex notwithstanding.

She faltered for a second, wondering which part of her tipsy, alcohol-addled brain managed to come up with that. It was preposterous; she had standards, she…

Damn straight, she had standards. She knew what she wanted and he fulfilled most of the necessary requirements, far more so than any other man she had ever been with. He was intelligent, funny and mysterious, and as she watched him unlocking his front door, she knew that it was now or never. Be a coward and never again get the chance to find what makes him tick, or stick to the plan and get some damned answers - the choice was hers alone.

"Are you coming?" Gold's voice roused her from the moment of reverie and she felt her legs giving the necessary response.

She climbed the rest of the steps and walked into the dim foyer. Lights flickered on and she looked around, pleasantly surprised. To her right was a grand wooden staircase with the most massive banister she had ever seen, and it made her wonder slightly if the house had originally been built for a herd of elephants, rather than a slender man like him. To her left was the weirdest sitting room, which mirrored Mr. Gold's personality quite well – the décor was tasteful and elegant, but there was more than a touch of clutter about the room. There was a fireplace that looked like it was carved in wood, and on top of it a huge oval mirror and an antique clock that didn't seem operational. Left of the fireplace rested a gramophone so old that Ruby wasn't sure if it could even play full sized records. Strewn on the floor around the fireplace was an assortment of old instruments: there was a violin, a cello and a mandolin (also a few others she couldn't remember the names for).

The set of armchairs came complete with a sofa in the same style, of a dirty pink color. That was a color she didn't expect to find in his house. The man would surprise her yet.

Although the house wasn't nearly as cluttered as she was afraid it would be, the amount of stuff littered around the room was startling – the man was like a dragon, sleeping on his treasure trove. She looked at the ceiling and whistled at the absurdly expensive-looking chandelier dangling in cascades of shimmering crystal.

"Wow, you're a magpie, Mr. Gold."

He snorted at that and Ruby flashed him a cheeky grin, pleased that she could still poke fun at him and not be threatened in turn. It was a strange sort of freedom, a privilege even, for she doubted that he would allow anyone else to be that cheeky in his presence and merely laugh at it. Nope, anyone else daring enough would probably be wearing cement shoes come morning.

She took her coat off and draped it over the sofa.

"So, where's that cellar?" Ruby inquired after she got bored of inspecting his living room.

"So, straight to the point, aren't you, pet?" Her host gave her a veiled sort of half-smile, one that she still had trouble interpreting. In time, she consoled herself, in time she would learn.

"You seem like the kind of man who cannot stand wasting time." That sounded pretty smart, she had to admit, and she wondered how she managed to come up with it in the whooping span of two seconds.

"True…" He acknowledged with a brief nod: "Though some things shouldn't be rushed…"

Oh… They were definitely on the same page here.

Not that he needed to know that just yet.

"I'm starting to doubt the existence of that wine cellar… Maybe you lied to lure me here." It was possible, now that she thought about it, even though when she opened her mouth to speak, her intention had been merely to provoke, and coax a smile or a witty response from him.

"Calling me a liar, pet? That is not very polite, especially towards a host as gracious as me." He made an exaggerated flourish with his free hand, as if he was welcoming her to a magical castle, rather than an ordinary, though admittedly opulent house.

"Guilty until proven innocent. At least in your case." With arms crossed over her chest, she looked like she was scolding him – it felt ridiculous, but the look on his face didn't suggest any displeasure with her claim.

"In that case, I shall let the evidence speak in my stead. If you will?"

Only then did she notice that he was standing in front of a dark wooden door – it blended so seamlessly with the rest of the décor that she managed to miss it entirely. There was a subtle creak as darkness beyond was revealed and Gold's arm disappeared behind the frame, flicking on a switch, most likely, seeing how soft light suddenly emerged from somewhere deep below.

She gave him a small, poignant look that carried a hint of suspicion but followed anyway as he descended the wooden staircase. The steps creaked ominously and she was suddenly glad that he went in front of her – at least _something_ would break her fall, and to be perfectly honest, she'd take a cracked rib and bruised dignity over a broken neck any day (even though explaining it to Granny and Dr. Whale would be quite a challenge).

Once she was at the bottom of the stairs, a look to her left revealed an impressive wine rack. Now, not all slots contained bottles, but there were enough to reveal just how right her assessments were of late. He was definitely a pack rat.

"Nice collection you got here, Mr. Gold." She caught herself nodding in approval.

"_What the hell am I doing? I don't know anything about wine!" _

Since he didn't respond right away, Ruby turned around to see what he was doing. Even though his back was turned to her, she could discern the subtle hiss of a lighting match and noticed the rest of the basement in the process. The space itself was a bit narrow, the opposite wall was bare and there was no other furniture here other than a dark leather sofa, on its left a small round table and on its right a shelf that contained rows of wine glasses.

All in all, this looked like a cozy place to get drunk.

"What are you doing?" She asked, puzzled by his silence. It became quite apparent once he turned around, holding an ornate golden candlestick, three candles lit on top of it.

"Setting the mood?" She stifled a laugh, but the man looked vaguely pleased, though mostly as calm as ever.

"The wiring is a bit… Moody in the basement, I'm afraid. The lights tend to flicker from time to time." As if on cue to corroborate the story of its master, the house forced the solitary light bulb into a spastic fit. For a moment Ruby thought it would give out completely, but it chose not to. She didn't know whether to be grateful for it or not.

He placed the candlestick back on the table and joined her side, gaze directed to the wall covered with rows upon rows of nothing but dusty bottles.

"Is it true that wine gets better with age?" Ruby inquired roguishly, giving him a sideways glance.

Gold smirked. "Not all kinds do. Bordeaux tend to age wonderfully, but it depends on the manufacturer and the year… There's an art to these things."

She wondered how patient he would be if she asked him all of the details, but the truth was, she didn't really want to know all that boring stuff. It's not like Granny's would ever have a wine list.

"What's the oldest bottle of wine you have?"

His eyebrows rose slightly as his fingers traced the outline of the shelf and he murmured, looking somewhat unfocused: "I suspect there are a couple older than a century…"

"Wine doesn't spoil after so long?" Well, certain things didn't really have an expiration date, like honey, for instance. "Could we try one of those?" She asked tentatively, knowing that this was about the only chance she would ever get to try something this rare.

"Actually, had they not turned into overpriced vinegar, I'd share them with you, alas…" Gold shrugged, looking genuinely disappointed.

"Oh… So they do have an expiration date."

"Everything does." Here he paused for a moment, appearing lost in thought. "That's why antiques are so valuable… They withstood the passing of time, survived to tell the tale of an age long since past…" That was true, Ruby mused; antiques were interesting enough if you looked at them from that point of view.

"People like objects that tell a story." He shared the final thought.

If she didn't know any better, she'd find this almost romantic. Mr. Gold and romance, though… it was hard to imagine a non-volatile combination of those two. She had never heard of his involvement with anyone, which either meant that he was deviously sneaky about it, or years out of practice. She had no idea which of these options was better for her. Actually, it didn't really matter; it wasn't like she was here to stay.

But, the fact remained, the tension between them was palpable; you could almost cut it with a knife, and that was something none of her guys ever managed to achieve, not like this. There would be a spark, a glimmer, but this was substantial, an electrical build-up which threatened to self-combust any moment now. The only problem here was that he wasn't exactly relationship material, that much was obvious – she could never bring him home to Granny (unless she wished to kill her; in that case, it was a perfect plan) or bring him along to go out with her friends… Actually, they would never be allowed to be seen together in public, which kind of sucked. He was the lover type, not the boyfriend one. The type of lover a woman kept for obscure reasons - because the man was rich, or because he stroked her ego in any number of ways, but never a man it was acceptable to associate with, at least on the outside.

Maybe that was why he was still single; most women probably either found him intimidating or they were too scared of the social stigma that would come with the territory. Even the enormous wealth he possessed couldn't help him there, and that realization was pretty sad. A lone wolf he was, without a doubt, but he was probably lonely as well.

And that was something she could relate to. All of her friends and would-be boyfriends aside, there were things she couldn't share with any of them. Sure, they were decent company when the need arose (certain needs, itches that needed scratching, if you will), but there was always something missing. Crowds were distracting, fun even, most of the times just entertaining enough to keep her content and make her forget about anything she needed forgotten, but sometimes it just wasn't enough.

At those times she would just take the car and drive, sometimes deep into the forest, sometimes to the edge of town, with an intention to leave and never come back, but then reality would come crashing down and her senses would return – this was her home, her entire life. How can you leave something like that behind? It was hard.

Mr. Gold, however, probably didn't even have the luxury of any sort of company aside from the whispering voices of his antiques, telling him their stories in the dead of night, keeping him alive in his empty shop during the day… This made her want to try, to at least make an effort. She'd made it this far, she was here, in the perfect position to find out if any of her assumptions were correct, and also alleviate his loneliness (assuming he found problem with it in the first place).

"So… What's the most expensive wine in your collection that you'd be willing to open for me?" Teasing was easy, it was comfortable – a second nature, almost. And he seemed to enjoy it as well, so why not indulge?

"Ah… I believe that would be a 1967 Château Petrus, Pomerol."

The name was complete gibberish to her, but she pretended like it was interesting enough to warrant her attention.

"That's pretty old…" She said with a low whistle and then added mischievously: "Is that your birth year?"

He gave her an inquisitive look and spiced it up by adding a half-smirk. "No."

"I don't think you're younger than that, so… Older?"

"One tends to exclude the other, dearest." Gold snickered, giving her the briefest of glances, no doubt waiting in anticipation (or was it lying in wait) for her comeback.

"_Oh, no you won't."_

"Older." She stated resolutely.

He looked at her inquisitively and gave her a brief once-over which succeeded in making her shiver. Nah, must've been the cold cellar. Definitely.

"That is classified information, I'm afraid."

She narrowed her eyes at him, giving him a sharp, displeased look. Why was he so vehemently opposed to revealing his age? It was ridiculous; it's not like he was a woman that withheld her actual years for vanity's sake, so why? There's no way he was embarrassed about it, or anything stupid like that, right?

But, she would play his little game if need be.

"What would I owe you for that information?" The smug glint in her eyes would probably go unregistered (the light bulb was having a seizure again).

He tilted his head for a moment, pretending to think.

"Oh… I don't know… Your firstborn?" His grin was somehow brighter than usual and Ruby couldn't help but laugh. The man was such a tease! She found his comebacks pretty refreshing; most men her age had dreadful sense of humor and would only gape at her like drooling mandrills if she attempted this sort of banter with them. Gold was funny in a darker, quirky sort of way, and she was growing to like it more and more. If anything, it made her creative.

"I'd think this was a proposal, even without you getting down on one knee, but I fail to see a ring, so… Either you're messing with me or you're the biggest cheapskate ever."

Gold almost doubled over at that, one of his hands smacking into the rack for support as he chuckled, his shoulders shaking. It still wasn't loud, hearty laughter, but it was so rare, seeing his control slip, that she wanted to do just about _anything_ to make it happen again, with higher frequency as well as intensity. The moment didn't last long, and soon he was back, mask and all.

"Why don't I let you decide, hmm?" The slight twinkle in his eye assured her that he was most definitely just pulling her leg.

"I won't say yes without a huge-ass diamond ring, you can be sure of that." Ruby smirked; left hand perched on her hip.

"Well, well… I never would have taken you for a gold-digger… I guess I was mistaken." The self-satisfied smirk on his face made her face flush beet-red in a heartbeat.

"_No, no, no, no, no way!"_

"I'm not!" She squealed almost, stomping her foot lightly in displeasure. This was going south, fast. Only now she could see the double meaning and it made her want to cry out in frustration, but that would only fuel his merciless wit more. He looked way too happy about this, and it wasn't helping matters any.

"It was a jest, pet… No need to get upset."

Oh, if he only knew why she was upset, he would gloat even more. She resisted the sudden urges to slap or kiss him (or both), and bit back her tongue. Her lips were pursed, hands crossed over her chest and she fixed her gaze onto the wine rack indignantly. He had a way of making her lose all manners of control and it was slowly driving her crazy. Behaving like a brat was not how she imagined going about this, but he just provoked that reaction in her, and effortlessly at that. It made her feel inadequate for being unable to "stay on his level", but it was his own damn fault – if he wanted a woman by his side, he should treat her as such.

When he moved from his spot, she found herself worried all of a sudden, following his movements across the room. It was hard to discern what was going on as the light flickered in and out of existence, and suddenly, with a hiss and a crackle, the light bulb finally gave out, leaving the basement in prevailing darkness.

He turned around, corkscrew in hand, and tutted at the ceiling. Then he looked at her, his nose wrinkled in distaste at the prospect: "Would you like me to get a new one?"

She thought about it for a moment: light was good. Light made her feel safe from him (and herself, actually). But to change the bulb, he would have to fetch a ladder, and with his bad knee, she could only imagine what a grueling undertaking that would be. Also, having her change the light bulb would probably hurt his pride (men just _loved_ to fix stuff).

"Nah, I'll live." She waved her hand dismissively. His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, and then he returned to the task at hand – opening what should be a superior alternative to the poor excuse for a wine they were served at Remy's.

After a subtle pop, soon followed by a pouring sound, Ruby was faced with Gold's expectant expression as he turned around and handed her the glass.

"Let's see if you have the makings of a sommelier."

One of her eyebrows quirked up; what, was he expecting a review all of a sudden? She couldn't possibly fathom why.

"What am I supposed to do?" She gave him a hesitant, slightly baffled look.

"Give it a whirl and a taste. See what flavours… emerge."

This had to be some sort of code-speak right there, but she allowed it to divert her attention regardless.

"I've never tried that. It'll probably sound like total nonsense."

His chin dipped a bit and he smiled. "I suspect most _experts_ sound the same; don't worry about it."

She gave him an uncertain look and then noticed that he was leaned against the table, both hands on the edge for support, quite obviously without a drink in hand. That wouldn't do.

"What, you're not going to drink? I can't down the whole thing by myself." Technically, she _could_, but she suspected she'd be in no condition for anything except hugging a toilet afterwards, and _that_ was most definitely _not_ the impression she was trying to make.

"Be a darling and fetch me a glass?" The slight upward curve of his lips suggested infinite delight on his part, but she chose to put it aside for now; if she stopped to disassemble and analyze every single one of his little smiles, she'd be stuck down here forever, until she'd turn into a mummy and then he could just stuff her into one of the display cases in his shop. Turning around to the little wooden shelf that held the rest of the glasses, she picked one up. Just like the wine rack itself, it too, was covered with a thin film of dust and she wondered when the last time was that these things had seen use.

She handed it to him gingerly and watched him take it delicately, whipping up a cloth out of nowhere, cleaning it with seemingly perfected strokes. If she didn't know any better, she'd think those hands had a lot of practice – was he a waiter once? The sheer absurdity of the thought made her laugh; there was no way she could imagine a young Mr. Gold waiting tables and pouring people coffee – it was preposterous. Though, he must have had a past of some kind, a wife, maybe, kids… The amount of questions was infinite, the answers – scarce.

As he was pouring himself some wine, Ruby could stifle her growing curiosity no longer: "When was the last time you had somebody down here?"

He gave her a pointed look but remained silent. Well, if that approach wasn't working, it was time for some good old-fashioned humorous coaxing.

"I won't ask about the bodies buried here, don't worry." She sealed the deal by adding a conspiratorial wink.

"You seem very curious this evening." He deftly evaded, as usual.

"And _you_ seem very determined to change the subject whenever I ask you anything. I believe it's called "defense mechanism"?" She supplied with unbridled satisfaction. Since he didn't say anything, she assumed that was a yes.

"So, just tell me. What have you got to lose?" Not much, she thought, save for those masks he loved to hide his real face behind.

"Well… Let's just say…there's a first time for everything."

It was a veiled admission, but an admission nonetheless, and she was slowly learning to appreciate those rare instances when he would actually reveal bits and pieces about himself.

"So, does that mean I'm the first one you brought here?" Gosh, did that sound _hopeful_? She certainly hoped not. To be fair, it was a teasing sort of voice after all, maybe he wouldn't notice…

"You seem awfully pleased by that, pet." Neither statement nor question, likely a hybrid of both, it made her stomach knot and twist.

"_Drat."_

Falling back on the "offense is the best defense" premise, she bared her teeth.

"And it took you how many years to finally succeed in dragging a woman into your lair?" Her grin wasn't malicious, even though what she said probably suggested otherwise.

The dim light was likely the reason why she was having a hard time deciphering the complexity of his expressions, but she was sure there was a hefty dose of surprise flashing across his face before he managed to compose himself.

"A most astute observation."

Uh, oh… That little knowing smile was back.

"Really?" Ruby gave him a look of suspicious disbelief: "Which one would that be? About women, or about the lair?"

He offered no reply as she watched him take a sip of that freakishly expensive wine, never breaking eye contact. There was something scalding in that gaze she couldn't shake off. He wouldn't tell her, she realized; keeping her in the dark was probably a much more appealing alternative. Literally.

Finally giving up with a shrug, she took a careful sip - there were no roofies in it, were there? That would be awfully pointless.

"Wow." She managed to say. This wine was light years away from piss of any kind and she could taste the difference as clear as day.

There was a slight smile tugging on his lips as he observed her. Ruby felt a rush of tingles swarming from her belly to the rest of her body. Ok, while she would have been more than happy to chalk it up to the wine, she knew the feeling well enough in a sober state to be able to recognize it anytime.

"Describe it to me." He requested in a deceptively soft voice, but she could almost feel an absolute command beneath it. The urge to deny his demand was overwhelming, but something deep inside of her was giving in, obeying his words without as much as a question.

She took a bigger sip this time and let it linger on her tongue for a moment. The blend of flavors was fascinating, the transitions between them nearly seamless, and she could not discern exactly what she was tasting. She swallowed slowly and bit her lower lip as she pondered for a moment. Giving him a slightly insecure look (this had the potential to turn embarrassing), she decided to speak her mind regardless:

"At first, I thought it was rich… It's a bit dry, if that makes any sense, dry but not _flat_… There's… I felt some kind of… berries? Not sure… Oh! And it tastes a bit like… never mind, it's weird."

She was very reluctant to tell him what the aftertaste was, because, against all reason, something about it made her heart race. To feel aroused by that particular aroma was slightly twisted, but Ruby couldn't help it – that must have been a hidden kink of hers, finally rising to the surface.

"Indulge me." That was it, she thought; his piercing gaze, which made her feel completely exposed, also made her feel like he could read her mind, like he was able to peruse her most intimate thoughts at his leisure with minimum amount of effort, and gloat over it afterwards.

"It tastes like…" she swallowed: "…blood and chocolate." She averted her gaze as soon as the words left her mouth, not yet completely aware of the fact that she really went through with it. The cellar wasn't well-heated by any standards, and yet she was feeling uncomfortably warm and slightly out of breath.

"Excellent." He commented, but she still couldn't meet his eyes, though she heard what he spoke next: "There are indeed notes of iron and cocoa powder in it… As for the berries you mentioned… Blackberries, I believe, are the ones you were looking for. It seems your worry was unfounded; you would make a fine sommelier, pet."

So, she actually got most of it right? That was either pure dumb luck, or she was some sort of wine prodigy or yet undiscovered savant. Then her mind doubled back; Gold actually went out of his way to _praise_ her? Now she was sure the world was coming to an end. An uncomfortable sort of uneasiness bubbled in her stomach and she sat on the sofa to avoid having her legs give out. Crossing them, she risked a glance his way. His nose was stuck in the glass and his gaze nowhere near her. For some reason, this made her somewhat upset. He had a woman in his basement for the first time in _eons_, and he dared look uninterested? That was as clear an insult to her appeal as it was possible.

"Why are you sitting over there?" She asked, sounding bolder than she actually felt. "I can't imagine it's more comfortable than the couch." Now, _that_ he wouldn't be able to refute.

"Admiring the view?" He offered with an impish smile, and her gaze instantly dropped to her cleavage, wondering if her dress managed to slide lower somehow and how long ago it happened to slip her notice.

A soft chuckle made her pay attention to him once more and she realized that he probably couldn't see it all that well from that vantage point, it just wasn't close enough, and the light was quite dim, to tell the truth. A moment later, she realized that her long legs were crossed but slightly outstretched, and would definitely tempt any man into letting their gaze linger a bit longer than necessary.

She grinned and drank, emptying her glass in one go. It must have given her that one final burst of courage she needed for this, and she straightened on the sofa, her right hand caressing the leather by her side seemingly without notice, as her warm, flickering gaze found its way to his, entangling inseparably in the process.

"Well, from up there you can look, but you cannot touch…" She observed the way his mouth opened slightly, lips twitching for but a moment before he shut it again. This reluctance needed to go, fast.

"Besides, I need a refill." If that was the excuse he needed, so be it.

Sure enough, that seemed to do the trick – he got up, bottle in hand and sat on the couch, still far enough so that she had to lean in for that refill. That was sneaky and mean, but she found herself caring less and less. If he wanted to play dirty, she was not adverse to the idea.

Once the glass was mostly full, instead of crawling back to the place she used to occupy before, she stayed right where she was. He deposited the bottle back on the table and took his own glass.

"Cheers." He said in a low voice, it came out mostly hushed. She wanted to know the reason behind it, but found herself reacting to his gesture unconsciously, clinking her glass to his.

They both drank, and for a long moment, there was nothing but silence all around them. Not hearing a damn thing was pretty terrifying, making the basement seem like more of a crypt. It was a curious game between them; as long as they were talking, things were fine, better than fine, actually, but once words ran dry and silence wormed its way around them, doubts were given room to fester undeterred. Yet, here she was, sitting about two feet away from him, in his basement, drinking his expensive wine, wanting everything and nothing all at once.

This was a fundamentally wrong place for doubts and second thoughts. Why were they still present? Her brain jumped at the prospect of elaborating further on the subject, handy with a nigh endless supply of reasons why all of this was a terrible idea, but the voice was such a droning stream of general unhelpfulness that she shoved it aside, choosing rather to entertain a new one that strutted into the audience chamber with a swagger, demanding to be permitted entry. It was like a dark reflection of herself staring straight at her, clad in black leather from head to toe, golden eyes glowing in hunger and impatience. It looked more like a silhouette, a menacing shape looming in the darkness, but it was impossible to deny it access – how do you hide from a monster?

"_You want him" _it whispered into her ear as it circled round and round _"you know you do_".

Ruby shuddered to the marrow of her bones. The most powerful man in town could be hers, if she only extended her hand far enough to stake her claim. This was no longer about coy smiles and funny remarks; the low simmering heat was crawling up her spine, pooling in her mouth, and she could feel something damp and tantalizing teasing her taste buds, the immediate sharp intake of cold air making her hyper-aware of her canines all of a sudden. Her inner darkness was right, the need was here, the craving getting stronger by the minute as it kept murmuring seductive thoughts in hushed, salacious tones.

She leashed the unwanted guest and shoved it back into the darkness where it belonged. Going about this like a wild animal would take half of the fun from it; also, it wasn't like the object of her desire needed to know that he wasn't the only monster in this town. Her reputation was blown out of proportion but that didn't make it entirely unfounded.

"Let's play a game." The words came out with her breath and the languid motion of her eyes seemed to stretch on forever until their gazes met.

"A drinking game." She added to avoid any confusion, as well as to save herself the trouble of getting sidetracked by his ever-present need for humorous retorts.

"Oh?" He replied slowly, measuredly almost. "This isn't one of those "truth or dare" deals, is it?" There was a definite amount of amusement in his voice, but the worry he expressed was seeping through the cracks. Why such need for secrecy? It was slowly stretching the limits of her patience to their breaking point.

"No. The only soul-baring going on here will be exclusively on a voluntary basis." With a half-smug, half-mysterious smile, she observed him in silence. The soft illumination provided by the flickering flames was enough to shed light on his reactions.

"And what would be the rules of this little engagement?" Gold inquired in his habitual business-like manner.

With that, she turned to face him, her long legs untangling, the right one breaching most of the remaining distance between them as she brought it to rest on the couch, folded in the knee. And then, in a manner of a gracious hostess, she proceeded to explain, drink still in her right hand, the fingertips of her left tracing the delicate surface of the glass in the process:

"Well, each of us will choose something to whisper in the other's ear, anything at all. And you're not supposed to move or say anything as it's being said. If you do, you drink."

For once, it looked like she had his full attention.

"If you don't… Then I drink. And vice-versa. Clear enough?"

He said nothing for a moment, and she wondered if he would refuse. That would be a waste, and she was trying to appeal to his business side – one that could see a good deal when it presented itself.

"All right." He acquiesced, his warm, chocolate-colored eyes aglow. "You start."

"What, cannot think of anything to say?" She said smugly.

"You will excuse me, pet… But I haven't had the pleasure of playing this game before, so I find myself at a distinct disadvantage." The earnestness of his tone seemed genuine, and it made her wonder if this was the first time a woman was so openly flirtatious with him.

"Fine. I'll start, then." There was already a perfect phrase forming in her head, designed to make him react – it might have been unrefined, but it was the most likely to provoke a response. With that, she slid closer until her chest was about an inch from his shoulder, lips nearly brushing against his ear as she spoke in a smooth whisper:

"I had a wet dream about you." She moved away a bit to scrutinize his reaction, wondering if he would move, or at least flinch, because his lips were shut tight - he was obviously not going to speak. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to budge, she knew this round was forfeit.

"Ok, my loss. I drink."

He turned his head to watch her and his face was impossible to read, no secretive smiles, no strange glimmers, nothing. Her heart found it perfectly acceptable to set a new beat, running miles ahead of what she would like.

"Your turn." It was hard to breathe as she leaned back into the sofa, nervous about his comeback in advance. She closed her eyes and waited. Soon, she was able to feel the moisture in his breath as it brushed past her ear and sensed the slightest of touches along the outline of her jaw, his voice but a whispered caress: "And what was it exactly that we've done in that dream of yours, pet?"

Whether it was the touch or the words mattered little, for she let out a soft, strangled gasp, her chin jerking upwards as her lips parted to give way to the loss of breath. Her head snapped to face his way, the man already moving away, the makings of a grin showing on his face.

"You cheated!" She protested, "I said nothing about touching!"

Gold replied with a fully formed smirk: "Precisely. You didn't specify."

He had warned her to be specific when making deals with him, and she knew that this was on her head. It still didn't make him any less devious. She frowned and drank, spite rising in her throat.

"I'll get you for this."

"I'll be looking forward to it." He snickered, looking irritatingly pleased with himself.

"I believe it's my turn." All bets were off; if he was planning on playing dirty, she was more than happy to oblige. If touching was permitted, then he was in deep trouble. The fire was back, she could feel the aftertaste lingering on her tongue, enticing her inner demon towards actions she would usually never go through with, the very ones which she was often accused of behind her back. Her left hand came to rest on his knee and she moved it up his thigh excruciatingly slow while she was whispering in his ear:

"In the dream… We were at the diner…" Ruby was mindful to watch him intently, so not a single twitch could escape her notice as she was retelling the story:

"It was closing time and you were getting ready to leave when I stopped in front of the door –" A long pause stretched between them and she breathed into his ear, hoping for a shudder, but none came.

For the first time, she could discern his scent – it was strange that she hadn't noticed it before, because there was a nearly chameleon-like quality to the man's smell – it could blend in flawlessly with the rest of his surroundings, almost as if he wasn't even there, or perhaps, like he was ever-present, lingering in every speck of dust and bead of water. He smelled of nature, of moss and wet stone on the banks of a brambling brook, of dried grass and pollen, a heady smell she could not discern properly. Almost like he held a part of every thing in existence, all at once, stealing the essence of all creation to reinforce his own. If there was a name for it, the only word that fit the description was _power_ - muted, subdued, buried deep in a collapsed cave, but it was there – a swirling mist of all that was secret, of everything that ruled over life and death, a precipice as sharp as a diamond blade – so thin you couldn't possibly see it with the naked eye, and yet, you could feel its sting nonetheless. If that power could be harnessed, nothing was impossible – the entire world could be his at a mere snap of his fingers, and if she would claim him - and at this very moment, she yearned for it, he would be on her side, hers to control… If only she could make him relinquish the death-grip he had on it first.

"You asked me if I didn't want you to leave…" his leg muscles were as rigid as stone, which meant that he was trying _really_ hard not to move "- to which I replied that I wanted you…to stay." Ruby paused for a reason, noticing the slight sheen of sweat forming on his brow.

"You made me lock the door and pinned me against it, your fingers caressing my thighs, sliding up, higher and higher…" Her carefully measured words were accompanied by her own fingers, on a trajectory meant to come to a halt only where every other man would just about lose his mind.

Here she stopped to observe the reaction she was sure she was evoking in him, because it would probably take a eunuch to stay impassive to that. A couple of seconds trickled by, and he still wasn't moving. Ruby realized that he likely wouldn't, no matter how long she stared at him. She resisted the overwhelming urge to snarl.

"You're a tough nut to crack." She hissed, bringing the glass closer to her lips. If only looks could kill…

After a large gulp, she settled onto the couch once more, waiting for his move with a hint of dread clawing at her insides. She wondered how he was able to throw her off her game; it usually never took this much effort to bring a man down, but, as it would appear, he was _nothing_ like the usual men she dealt with; he was actually a _man_, not a fumbling youngster who could do little more than stab a woman with the pointy end.

This time she would persevere. This time she wouldn't let him coax a response from her, this time… _Oh, my God, is that his hand on my thigh? _Her eyes flew open at once and she tried really hard to suppress a moan that threatened to escape the confines of her throat. His breath was hot on her skin, and she wondered if he would abandon this silly game in favor of what they both wanted. This was foreplay, she realized, their own personal brand of it - criss-crossed with double meanings, layered with unspoken intentions and laced with desires heightened by the absurd amount of time wasted in delaying what might've been inevitable from the very beginning. With petrified breath, she waited for his words, willing this to be over. Yet, when his lulling whisper rumbled softly in her ear, it took every last shred of her willpower not to give in, then and there.

"And how far up…did my fingers go, exactly?"

She should have _known_ that he would use it against her, but hindsight was always 20/20. Before the last word left his lips, his fingers all but fluttered above her skin, on the inside of her right thigh, just on the fringe where the lace of her stockings began, and the more primitive part of her psyche took the wheel forcefully, her legs spreading a fraction in an entirely unconscious action, a whimpering moan escaping her trembling lips. It took her a long moment to process everything she was feeling, so she, at first, didn't even realize that his hand was gone from the one place where she approved of it being. Trying hard to ignore the gentle pulse in the lowest part of her abdomen, she turned to face the only person who was able to wrest control from her so effortlessly, wondering if his face was still as close to her neck as she remembered, but he had already leaned back, gaze fixed on her with a measure of amazement and mild disbelief. There was also something triumphant about his half-smile, and she realized that this was a look she had never seen on him before.

"For a game of your choosing, you're surprisingly bad at it, pet."

So, the teasing was back, along with a nearly narcissistic amount of self-satisfaction.

She'd had it.

No man was immune to a woman's charm, at least no straight man (which she assumed he was, pink couches aside), and she would make him fold, even if it was the last thing she did. Downing the remainder of the wine in one swig, she put the glass to rest on the wooden shelf on her left and felt all remaining control slipping. The black outline was back with a vengeance, golden eyes glistening in anticipation of what was to come.

Ruby got up from the couch, feeling a cascading tingle as her legs stretched, and walked up to him, staring him down. He held and followed her gaze intently, like he wasn't able to look away. Her left knee found its way to the couch and she gripped the armrest for support as she brought her right leg up as well, all but straddling him as a final result. Her thighs were hovering above his lap, so there was no physical contact yet, but it was close enough to feel the heat he exuded. She let her hands rest against his chest, waiting for a betraying convulsion of his muscles, or a soft moan, but he was immovable. Moving forward, she led her lips close to his ear, breathing through the stray strands of his hair, sending them aflutter. If what she was about to say wouldn't make him budge, she would consider herself a failure as a woman. And leave the cellar after giving him a good-night smack in the groin.

"You should know that… besides the bra… I'm wearing nothing underneath this dress…" She breathed a small giggle of satisfaction as the man's chest jerked against her palm and he inhaled sharply with a hiss. Ruby retreated at once, facing him, her legs still by his sides, and all but ordered him:

"I heard that… Drink."

His gaze was as sharp as a razor, peeling off the layers of her self-confidence, but she knew then – he was as mortal as any other man, and equally fallible. And of all the women in the world, she would be the one to make him fall.

As his glass traveled to his lips, Ruby's right hand closed around it.

"Wait." She said with a hint of urgency, her voice slightly deeper than usual, her gaze darkened. After bringing the cool glass to her lips, she took a tiny sip – her gaze never leaving his. She took the glass away and placed it on the table; they wouldn't be needing it anymore.

He seemed puzzled and intrigued, all at once, and offered no resistance as she traced the thumb of her right hand across his lips, sliding down to his chin, offering a slight tug.

Ruby leaned closer, and his lips parted for her in unspoken accord as she descended on him, mouth pressing to his in a slow, heated kiss. Her tongue unfurled, pouring the bit of wine that was left, hoping that he, too could feel the dizzying aroma of blood spiced with cocoa. The tension in his lean frame was building, and he was all trembling and high-strung underneath her. It must have been some breaking point he was nearing, and she knew which one she _wasn't_ hoping for.

There was no breath left in her as she felt a slight push against her bare shoulders and startled slightly as the realization struck – he was pushing her away. The chorus in her head screamed questions by the dozen, but she hushed it to focus on his eyes instead. They said the eyes were the windows to one's soul; it was a quote overdone, but she still searched those depths of mesmerizing brown for the silhouette of the person residing within. His eyes were not windows, but rather curtains – you could blow a wind and they would shimmer and coil, allowing no more than a quick glimpse into the realm inside, and would tangle around you, wrap you up in their deceptively thin fabric, and never let you in.

His eyes were denying her access.

But everything else was evidence to the contrary; his breathing was hushed and ragged, his fingers which were resting on her shoulders until then, started to trail down, the hesitant touch as soft as a feather's tickle. She shivered, her own breathing reduced to small, erratic gasps. Her hands latched onto his shoulders and she felt like a drowning woman clinging to a rope.

"You are playing a very dangerous game, my pet…" He uttered with some difficulty, his eyes ablaze – it wasn't just the flicker of the flames she could see reflected in them, but also something inherently conflicting – worry and savagery, at the same time, intertwined inseparably like two snakes coiling around each other. Well, she'd better stick her hand into the hissing knot, for there was only one of these she wanted.

"I swear, you try to warn me off again, and I will strangle you in your sleep." The threat held no real malice, but it blazed with frustration and definite promise.

His face was hard to read, her own rising heat interfering with the concentration necessary for the task, but one of his hands was suddenly tangled in her hair, and she was being pulled closer, her mind a complete blank until he claimed her mouth in a rough, nearly bruising kiss. It was hungry and demanding, which mirrored her desires perfectly, drawing her hidden side to the forefront with startling ease. She welcomed his burning lips with a soft moan, impatient hands sliding under the lapels of his pristine suit in search for his heat, feeling an insatiable craving for closeness, for skin. Their kiss broke as her back arched at his touch, her breathless gasp severing the connection when other forms of contact overrode her senses. Pressing herself to him, she leaned on his chest and her legs shuddered, then gave out, until she was sitting in his lap, hands searching frantically for some bare skin to touch. When they reached his neck, she clung to him, fingers burying in his soft, mousy hair and breathed heavily next to his ear.

She could feel her hair being brushed away from her left shoulder, his fingertips wreaking havoc on her nerves. This was the moment when she became fully aware of the fact that she could no longer stop and walk away: the desperate want would consume her from within. No matter how ludicrous the thought was, the simple (or perhaps, ugly) truth was: she _needed_ this. He had to make this feeling go away by satisfying her urges; there was no way out of it now.

The grip he had on her hair should have hurt, but she felt nothing but a scalding, wet kiss pressed against her throat, dissolving into a thousand contradicting sensations at once, as he seemed unable to make up his mind regarding the method of administering this torture: for a moment she could feel the graze of his teeth, the next a moist flicker of his tongue, both in between many different types of kisses. Perhaps it was the chaos of the motions, but it made her groan softly, her hips already working up a rhythm to the melody he was making her play. His gruff, shallow breaths only teased the wet spot on her neck, sending delighted shivers down her arms.

She needed more of him, more skin bared to her starving touch, but his attire was impeding her efforts every step of the way. With a low growl, she fumbled with his tie, fingers tugging and unfolding and yanking at it until the damned thing slipped away. She let if fall freely wherever it damn well pleased and moved back to look at him and assess the situation. There was little time to mourn the loss of the attention he was showing her neck as she unbuttoned his jacket, pulling the sides off of him in an almost hateful way. Just when she was about to tackle the tiny buttons of his entirely irritating shirt, he grabbed her wrist firmly and spoke in a deliberate manner, his accent more pronounced than before:

"You seem to be in an awful rush to get this over with, _pet_." The term made her shiver as his teeth bared to pronounce it. Was that what he thought? That she was rushing through this, actually going along out of some obscure sense of pity, or misguided gratitude for the date they had? That was just _wrong_. She wasn't doing this for any of those stupid reasons! The only motivation behind her actions was desire, coming straight from her core, plain and simple and unyielding.

The realization left her hovering above him in a daze, a part of her snapping out of lust-induced frenzy, while the other was yanking the chain in an attempt to drag her back into the darkness, drawing upon the sensations evoked by the strength of his grip – he could hold her back. This slender, wiry man was able to hold her back, or hold her down, or to pin her against anything, if he so desired, and that monstrous part of her stretched in delight, attempting to convince her that more of his touch held the promise of pleasures yet unknown.

"Stop torturing me…" She pleaded, mouth desperate for his, and he didn't move away, he listened and obeyed, loosening his grip somewhat as he led both of their hands to fall by their sides and she kissed him feverishly, her other hand holding his jaw in place, guiding him closer. Her tongue flickered against his lips, encouraging and begging for admission, and he gave it, his mouth slanted against hers in a surprisingly perfect fit. A wave of agonizing bliss washed over her at the first real taste of his mouth – it was rich and thick, just like the fine wine they had shared, more like molten chocolate rather than blood - the slightly bitter kind - but its flavor all the more potent for it. There was something tantalizing and addicting about the way he tasted, a palatable sort of darkness which she was completely defenseless against – instead of staking her claim over him, she found herself taken instead, whisked away into a parallel dimension of his own making, trapped in his covetous arms.

"What _are_ you?" She could hear him say as they separated for air, his eyes wild and voice hoarse.

The low, rumbling laughter that vibrated at the bottom of her throat surprised even her as she whipped her head back, the silky strands of her hair brushing against her heels in a short, sweeping motion. She settled in his lap once more and laced her fingers behind his neck, looking at him from afar, eyes ablaze with a strange sort of fire, one she hardly knew she possessed until this very moment. Her voice didn't quiver in the least at the admission, quite the contrary; it felt like the most natural thing to say:

"I'm a monster." It felt like a simple enough truth, for who else would act this way? So wanton and unhinged? Surely, only a creature shrouded in shadows, a wild, untamable animal. A half-formed grin gleamed on her face, her eyes nearly closed. This felt like a trance, surreal and yet so very tangible that it was impossible to deny its existence.

"I thought it was well established that the title belonged to me." Gold mirrored her smile with startling proficiency.

"Not _everything_ belongs to you, you insatiable man." There was something haughty about her gaze as she looked at him, like she was sure of her claim beyond any reproach.

He answered this with a quiet snarl as he pulled her closer to him, his right hand sliding possessively up her thigh. The gesture assured her that she was desired, that he wanted her, and no matter how feral it was, it didn't end up frightening her in the least; her own beast craved the encounter just the way it was. While he was busy with the hem of her dress, she occupied herself with his buttons, prying them loose, one by one, his hand, meanwhile, sliding underneath, caressing her thigh with reverence. She leaned closer to spread his shirt open when he let out a soft gasp of surprise:

"You… _lied_." There was surprise mixed with light outrage flashing across his face and his gaze found hers and they clicked together like a clasp. He sounded mildly shocked, but the brilliance of his grin showed an unmistakable dose of pride, like she was but an apprentice that had managed to outsmart her master way ahead of her time.

Ruby let out a soft chuckle and leaned closer to him, her eyes boring into his unwaveringly: "You were the one that started to play dirty…"

She licked her lips and watched him for a long moment, his eyes traveling south, undressing her on the way down. She went for a more practical approach and undid the rest of his buttons after wresting the shirt free from his trousers. Her breath caught in her throat as his chest and abdomen were bared to her gaze.

"Not what you expected?" He inquired, looking fairly amused.

She stared for a moment longer before running her hands across the surprisingly smooth skin on his chest, relishing the subtle flexing of his muscles as her hands slid down. She had expected to see him a bit more… worse for wear, to be perfectly honest. But he was fairly toned for a man of his age, and what surprised her the most was the fact that he seemed to have no excess weight anywhere in sight. He was pure sinew, resilient and commanding a strength that belied his small stature. She found herself breathing harder in approval; this was something she could definitely get into.

"It's not… It's better." She stated blatantly, staring at him with newfound appreciation.

"Would you have gone through with it had it not been?" He asked, one of his eyebrows quirked.

She didn't quite understand why he seemed so interested in this at that point, but humored him regardless.

"Most likely… Though I cannot say if I would be up for a repeat performance…"

This made him laugh and she watched the way his throat bared for her, the sight making her want to sink her teeth into him.

Which was exactly what she did. Lowering herself into a more suitable position, she kissed the side of his neck, nipping at his flesh at first, only to lick and tease it better afterwards, feeling a rush of accomplishment as it coaxed a husky moan from his lips, and, in turn, felt his canines biting into the exposed skin of her left shoulder, the fierceness making her tremble in his arms.

"Take this _off_!" She hissed while she was tugging his suit jacket away, and felt him stirring underneath as his back separated from the sofa, shaking the offending garment off. Once that was done, she felt both of his hands on her head, his lips pressed to her left ear. He was breathing hotly into her hair and his voice came out raspy, which only fueled her drive further.

"Impatience suits you, pet…" His whisper was coarse and barely distinguishable, but the words managed to pull her closer to the brink. He was pandering to her every unspoken plea, played straight into every dirty fantasy that she sometimes had trouble coming to terms with, and all of it without even breaking a sweat.

That had to change.

She made quick work of her invisible zipper and tried to pull the annoying dress over her head, but it wasn't going fast enough for her taste. She couldn't see him (the folds of the red fabric making sure of that), but his ringing laughter was clear enough, and she felt a liberating tug from underneath as her dress finally relinquished its hold on her body. With a quick glance at him, she realized that she was now severely underdressed. Something had to be done about that.

Just when she was really getting into the way he was looking at her, she got an eyeful of his bare chest displayed just for her. There was but that pesky shirt to take care of, and, as her hands slid up his stomach, soaking up the sudden shiver that greeted her fingers there, her breath was stolen from her lungs in a heartbeat. Just a cut above his elbows glistened a golden strap, one on each side, and she recognized these from the time she was at his shop. The memories came flooding in, thoughts of wanting him on that display case, craving those deft fingers of his and all they promised… She bit her lips and trembled, deciding at once to busy her hands with something else as a distraction – what would he think of her if he noticed that she had a thing for his armbands? Him being naked and gasping for breath was one thing, but an armband fetish was veering off into inexplicable directions. She unbuckled his belt, trying really hard not to moan and whimper while his fingertips trailed ghostly touches up her calves, then thighs, coming together on the flat surface of her belly, tentative and infuriatingly pleasurable. She pulled his belt out forcefully and tossed it aside, the metallic clang of the buckle hardly discernable as it thudded on the floor. Before she could even begin to comprehend what was going on, he had her lying on her back, splayed across the couch, a tiny gasp of surprise escaping her lungs as her back hit the smooth leather. He loomed above her and she motioned to get up and kiss him, or touch him, but he pushed her back with ease, his right hand tracing the outlines of her shoulder, breasts and waist, provoking quite a vocal, nearly tremulous response. He was hardly doing anything, but it was driving her insane anyway – it was like he knew instinctively what to do, which way to brush his calloused hands against the soft expanse of her skin to their full effect, and she didn't know whether to thank him or resent him for it. Arching into his touch, her body expressed all that her mind wanted to suppress, the longing, the need, the insatiable hunger for every single thing he was withholding from her.

He crooned to her from above: "Tell me what you want, pet…"

That sentence alone was the pinnacle of torture – he could see what he was doing to her, every little touch made her gasp and moan and writhe under his hands, and _still_ he pushed the limits further, all but _forcing_ her to admit her desire out in the open.

"You know what I want…" She whimpered breathlessly as her hands grabbed onto the armrest behind her head: she had to dig her nails into _something_, and if he was determined to withhold his back, then his couch would suffer for it.

His left hand was resting on her hip, and his right sliding down her thigh, making her tremble. She could feel her body pliable, then tense, the two alternating in waves as his hands moved across it.

"I didn't hear that…" There was a sugary quality to his voice, and it reeked of lies – he heard it, all right.

Biting on her lower lip, she tried to stifle all of the embarrassing little sounds that just couldn't _stop_ spilling from her mouth; like he needed any more proof of his prowess. This next admission was hard enough to produce already…

"You… I want _you, _God…" She covered her eyes with the palm of her right hand, feeling her head swim as her body called out for him. Ruby fully expected him to tease her about it, to say: _"Was that so hard, pet?" _but he chose not to. A good call.

She nearly forgot to breathe as she felt his fingers pulling at the delicate fabric of her black, lacy boy briefs. Her body raised into the air in response, making his job considerably easier. A rush of cold air greeted her exposed skin and she realized just how ready she was for what was coming. As soon as her legs untangled from the flimsy piece of fabric, she felt his hands hoisting her right leg over his left shoulder.

It was then that she looked at him properly and it seemed like he was bracing himself for whatever it was that he had planned next. He seemed enthralled by the sight of her so completely exposed, gaze fixed on a thin, pencil line of hair left. His right hand traced its way from her collarbone and lower still, making her shiver in response until it passed the full length of her abdomen and his fingers stopped just on the most sensitive part of her inner thigh, teasing the softest patch of skin for a moment, and her body screamed in protest.

"_Please!"_ She breathed out imploringly and it seemed to do the trick, for his other hand settled on her stomach, fingers spread, and the right one – _oh, so damn right_ – finally touched her the way she needed the most. One of his fingers slid inside without any resistance and she could see fireworks exploding behind her closed eyelids. All thoughts of shame melted away as she let her voice loose, her little noises of satisfaction filling the hollow space around them as they grew in intensity. Her hips had developed a mind of their own, falling into his rhythm, moving in reckless anticipation, imploring for more, and he seemed to understand their language, for another finger found its way in, provoking a rather enthusiastic response from her lips. He wasn't rough, she noticed, despite the sinful things he was making her do and endure. She wanted him harder, faced with a familiar feeling – she was so damn close – it was maddening. The desperate thrusts of her hips must have given him the right idea, because the rapid movement made her cry out as the delicious friction pushed her over the edge. Clenching around his fingers tightly, she breathed in sharply as a wave of pleasure carried her high. Her muscles relaxed once she came crashing down, her legs aquiver with the aftershock.

Gold seemed to be in as much of a daze as she was, and she watched him bring the fingers slick with her excitement to his nostrils, in an entirely obscene fashion, as if he was committing her scent to memory. A deeply perverse part of her mind started to wonder what flavors he could discern if he would only taste her, and her gaze must have betrayed her thoughts; the next thing she knew, he was licking the side of his index finger, his look somewhat hazy.

"What do I taste like?" It was the most daring thing she had ever said in the heat of the moment, but it didn't feel forced or out of place. She could see his lips stretching into a half-smirk as he answered her dare:

"Wild… berries, vanilla…and musk."

A feverish gasp escaped from her lips, and she felt the warmth swelling within her once more. The only thing in view was he, bathed in dim candle-light, soft orange hues dancing in pairs with shadows, whirling and flickering over his features.

"Let me try."

Ruby's voice was deliberate and steady; all boldness she never knew she possessed, filling those words to the brim. She got up slightly, staring at his fingers as if under a spell. Her lips parted, and she licked, her eyes closing as if she didn't need the gift of sight anymore, relying on her other senses to guide her. It certainly was someone else guiding her actions - for a thing like this one would need to be in a long relationship, one full of trust – which was about as far from the truth about their rapport as it was possible. And yet, she was doing unimaginable things, sucking gently on his slick fingers, having a taste of something that was surely forbidden, or at least should be. It wasn't about the taste though, she barely registered it, completely unable to discern the flavors that he claimed were present, but was, instead, nearly painfully aware of his coarse skin and smooth, short fingernails. Those hands didn't belong to an idle, pampered man, despite the lavish suits which suggested otherwise; these hands were the proof of a man who worked hard, until his hands were rough and dry – a testament to the sheer force of his will. He wasn't born rich, or spoiled, he wasn't pampered – every penny he earned was born of sweat and blood, and _that_ was why he held his head high when everyone else talked badly about him, for he was aware of the cost of success – having paid its price in full.

Once his fingers were clean, she allowed his hand to slip away, willing her eyes to open in search for his gaze. His breathing was shallow and quiet, so quiet, in fact, that for a brief moment she wondered if he was still a living being and not an eerily accurate representation left there in his stead.

Her mind was filthy, and in that moment her lips seemed inseparably linked to that vulgar part of her brain, speaking the words aloud, the kind that should never be allowed to leave the confines of her head:

"Delicious."

She observed him with vivid interest, noticing the sharp intake of breath that followed her indecent claim, making it seem like she had breathed life into him where there was none before. His eyes radiated warmth, the likes of which she had never witnessed. Other men had scalding, lewd, hungry gazes while his was dampened, softer – like there was something there that no other being was privy to, and she felt her heart jostling. He had unknowingly shared some of his real self with her, and she felt proud, honored and humbled, all at once.

"You still haven't had enough?" He asked, his voice tinted with somewhat muted mischief, even though the words carried a veiled plea for permission – as if he needed to ask! All he had to do was take her, and she would be his, completely, even if but for a night, or an hour… The fact that he bothered to ask at all struck her as sweet, and considering who it was coming from, it certainly was. No, he definitely wasn't what he appeared to be, or at least, not its sum.

If he needed validation, she would provide it.

She pulled him down on top of her, feeling the flush of his skin against hers, hands massaging his shoulders for a bit, and she tangled her legs around his waist, drawing him closer. His elbows were dug by her sides and she could feel his hot breath right beneath her collar bone, where he planted moist, open mouthed kisses, making her hips shudder against him. She was being driven mad, her thoughts muddled in disbelief at how incredible one man's kisses could feel compared to a dozen others which only left her cold or annoyed once they were done. But here, with her arms snaking underneath the smooth fabric of his shirt, finding his back at last, she took a moment to feel and appreciate the lean muscles she found there, and realized, through a drunken sort of haze, that he was making her _feel_. It was far from love, and light years away from healthy, or even acceptable for that matter, but it was more than she had ever felt in her life. It was new and _exciting_, but more than anything else – it felt worth her time.

"I want you…" She whispered through a soft groan, and he got up to look at her, really _look_, not just ogle or leer for his own satisfaction, almost like he honestly cared about the way she felt. Instead of cooling her down, it only fanned the flames.

"So I see…" He murmured huskily. "But we might have a slight problem here…"

"What? You can't get it up?" She asked, surprised at how serious that sounded. Gold merely laughed at that – a deep, throaty sound – and said:

"No, not that one."

She listened to his deep rumble and buried her fingers in his hair, breathing him in, like his scent was a perfectly viable alternative to oxygen.

"Then, we _don't_ have a problem." She concluded, wishing he would just go back to driving her crazy the good old-fashioned, physical way, instead of torturing her with questions that had no place here.

"I doubt you wish to be a parent so soon, my pet…"

Oh, so that's what that was about! She felt a flush of embarrassment mingling with impatience as she all but hissed at him: "I'm on the pill, don't worry… I'm not stupid." She rolled her eyes and hoped that this pointless detour was now over with.

His expression was slightly dark as he murmured as clearly as was possible: "Turn around." He pushed himself off of her and added: "On your knees."

She scrambled to obey, and while she was at it, eased her heels off; it wouldn't do to poke him in the knee on accident – that sort of pain was definitely _not_ the pleasurable kind, and it wouldn't be fair to deny him the satisfaction that was granted her by ruining his mood. Men loved this position, she learned over time, and for a good reason – it made the female body stretch out wonderfully, all curves and smooth lines, also, it made her shiver when her mind conjured up an image of what was about to happen in a few moments.

There was a subtle rustle of what she assumed were his pants, pooling around his knees, and she wondered how long it would take until his clothes were off when her breath died on its way to her lungs. One of his hands was sliding down her back, leaving a blazing trail of shivers on the surface of her soft skin. She settled at last on her left hip, and her attention shifted to the anticipating pulse between her legs, where she could feel his tip teasing her wet skin, almost hesitant in its advance. Her patience, however, had all been drained away by the game they played earlier, and she could tolerate no more waiting. Her hips bucked into him, and the sudden sensation threatened to undo her right on the spot. Apparently, she wasn't the only one that felt that way, because she could hear a raspy moan unfurling from the depths of his throat not a moment later.

His thrusts went deep; they were hard and sure, leaving her breathless and lightheaded with each long stroke. Even though her thoughts were muddled and the world around her was veiled by a mist of glittering particles falling over everything like the first powdery snow, she could still sense that something was off, like he was holding back for some reason. It was a sketchy, not yet fully formed and fairly incoherent thought, more of a hunch than anything else, but her instincts were rarely wrong. Maybe he was afraid of hurting her, though she would welcome that pain anytime. Deciding for him, she let her hips take the lead, intercepting his thrusts with her own; the trembling in her voice betraying her pleasure.

His own breathing quickened as well, hoarse and labored. The idea of him drawing as much pleasure from this as she was… It was a heady feeling, almost as intoxicating as the vintage wine they partook in earlier. The wispy tendrils of heat were spreading from her core, coiling about her limbs, and crawling upwards along her spine, spiraling around her neck only to snap shut below the hairline on her nape, forcing her to toss her head back with a long, vibrant moan. Any moment now, her senses would overflow, the steady build-up already making her tremble and whimper as his pace quickened. Realizing that she wouldn't last another second, she allowed the tension to overtake every muscle in her body, sending sparks of electricity flying in all possible directions. She felt almost uncomfortably tight as release claimed her, her body very reluctant to let him go.

Left gasping, cheek resting against the now sweaty leather, she tried to gather her wits, but there was nobody upstairs for the moment, like all of the designated drivers had abandoned ship. She could feel him pulling out and had a vague understanding that he wasn't finished yet. Leaving a man to fend for himself after throwing her head first into ecstasy was hardly fair. Tingles danced across her back in tiny swarms, and she willed herself to roll over, her thighs aquiver still.

Her lover was back in a sitting position, slouching somewhat. Ruby crawled closer to him, her muscles proving very reluctant to move the way she was trying to make them, or rather, to move in any way at all, but she was making progress, slow as it was.

Once she was close enough, she placed a hand on his shoulder and looked into his face – he was gritting his teeth, inhaling sharply. She followed the outline of his outstretched hand and realized that he was clutching his right knee.

"_His bad knee"_ she realized with a start. That position must have hurt more than he expected it would, and then it dawned on her – the pain was probably the reason why he didn't come despite how amazing the sex was (at least to her).

"Need help?" She soothed him, rubbing his neck.

"I'm fine." He answered hastily, but she could see it for what it was – a blatant and transparent lie.

"For a man of your reputation, you're a terrible liar." She mused out loud, looking at him fondly, tousling his hair.

"And you are a cheeky little thing." He groused lightly, bringing her chin up.

She slipped from his grasp and laughed, tugging the shirt off his shoulder, eyeing the golden armband that was cinching the fabric of his sleeve. She pressed a long kiss on his bared chest and felt a coarse whisper leave his lungs, an unintelligible sound that enticed her to explore further. As she lavished his abdomen with light kisses and licks, his hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and she could feel a slight pull – her trajectory didn't seem to please him, for some inexplicable reason. Well, tough luck; she was still close enough to his skin to manage a long lick, blowing at the trail of moisture left behind. Goosebumps emerged, and he half-growled, pulling her upwards.

Well, if that was what he wanted, she had ideas of her own, ideas which might, just _might_ coincide with his own… She crawled onto his lap and straddled him, recalling this position vividly from before, remembering the way he tasted in her mouth, and the urge was suddenly impossible to resist. Her lips closed over his in longing urgency, and he was unresponsive for but a moment; his lips parted like he was about to say something, but got rudely interrupted as she forced him into a kiss. Ruby couldn't help but notice how soft his lips were, despite his general "rough around the edges" sort of look. Her mouth opened to let a small moan flutter against his, and the next thing she could feel and taste was that delicious darkness, threatening to swallow her whole – he was playing dirty again – and she let out a soft whimper as his fingers curled inside of her, the velvet feel of his tongue making her head spin.

Blood, she could taste blood now, the metallic aroma making her mouth tingle and water. How deeply perverse was that, to feel so hopelessly aroused by that particular flavor? He was doing something to her, bewitching her, _changing_ her from the inside out, bringing forth a creature that usually slumbered within out to play. She groaned in protest as he broke the dizzying kiss:

"You had it right, that night…" Where there was space for confusion, her mind's eye could see what he was referring to with absolute clarity: he was talking about the night when he had beaten up Whale for her sake. Still, he added, for he couldn't read her mind:

"I'm a beast."

She giggled at that, as much as lack of breath would allow and soothed him with a gentle murmur to his ear: "You know what they say…takes one to know one…"

"I don't see any scales or claws on you, my pet." He crooned into her hair softly, sliding his fingers deeper, stimulating a spot Ruby wasn't even entirely sure existed before he had laid his hands on her.

"How did you…" Her words got all jumbled as his other hand held her head in place, thumb brushing against her ear, coaxing a rather desperate whimper from her lips, before she managed to get back to what she was saying: _"_Manage to miss my… mane?" She muttered in between ragged gasps and keens, realizing that his fingers were well drenched by now, but she wouldn't make him stop for anything in the world.

"It's hardly a frightening feature, my sweet." He murmured against her throat and bit her gently, his teeth grazing her skin, driving her wild with desire – being bitten was a carefully guarded guilty pleasure of hers, the one thing that never failed to turn her on, _especially_ if the guy had slightly pronounced canines, and Mr. Gold _did_.

"_Oh God…"_ She thought as he made her respond in ways she only dreamed of; this was good, so damn good it was probably against the law somewhere (it should be everywhere). He was a beast, all right, and he was turning her into one. The lone wolf was no more, a young woman in red keeping him company… The thought was obscenely arousing.

"I've stumbled into the lair of the Big Bad Wolf…" She giggled, trying to delay her pleasure for a little while longer, dancing above the precipice with the skill of an acrobat.

A low, growling chuckle tumbled out of his mouth as he spoke against her neck:

"If I'm the Big Bad Wolf… Wouldn't that make you Little Red Riding Hood?" He offered, and she could _feel_ his wide grin as if it was branding her skin, the images way too vivid in her mind for her own good. She was certainly riding him, her hips detached from her brain completely – her mind was perfectly happy drowning in pleasure, while the lower part of her body helped supply the stimuli.

Mr. Gold was surprisingly kinky, even though, when she really thought about it, it wasn't that much of a stretch – in their own four walls, even the meekest of men could do as they pleased, and he was hardly a meek man to begin with.

The squeeze she was giving his fingers was almost embarrassing, and she wondered if he would notice what an effect his filthy little remark had.

"You're a dirty old man, Mr. Gold." It's not like she could help it, her brain was already running on auto-pilot, and could only issue an automated response (all of which had obviously been programmed by that lascivious, golden-eyed reflection of hers).

She could feel his smile against her pulse point as he sucked her skin for a moment, releasing it with a lick, only to retort in the worst way imaginable:

"If I'm a dirty old man… Wouldn't that, in turn, make you a dirty little girl?"

This was insane; he was pushing all of her buttons at once, and it wasn't fair. She wanted him, she _needed_ him - to break her, to tire her out completely before she lost what little was left of her mind.

The dancer on the wire was losing her balance, swaying precariously – the only thing she could hope for, was that he would be there to catch her once she'd plummet.

"Turn around, pet…" He murmured into her ear huskily, and she wondered why he would stop, a frown of displeasure marring her otherwise perfect, lust-dazed face.

"Oh, don't look at me that way… Just do what I said."

Him and his little commands; they felt so irrefutable, and who was she to contradict him, when she could hardly use her legs, the muscles of her calves and thighs screaming in protest at the smallest of movements. She was grateful for his strong, lean hands as they helped steady and guide her into the position identical to the previous one, with the only exception of her being turned away from him, her back an inch from his bare chest.

Snapping out of her momentary stupor, she could feel a hard thrust, feel him buried so deep it made her cry out shamelessly. Grateful that this basement was probably the best sound-proofed room in his house, she stopped trying to muffle her moans of unabashed satisfaction, steadily driven into ecstatic madness, for what else could this be? The way she was touching his thighs, feeling his hands stroking her chest - the way they teased a response from her breasts through the fabric of the still inexplicably present bra - all of it left her panting and shivering and screaming for more.

"Come for me, little Red…" He sang into her ear, making her arch against him, breathless and utterly helpless; at the mercy of his dexterous fingers.

"Not before you…" She argued gruffly before her voice was reduced to whimpers once more.

"I really shouldn't, pet…" He whispered, even though his pace remained the same – consistently thorough and just a bit frantic.

"You _will_, now, _inside me_, or I swear, I'll never talk to you again." This threat, she would carry out, if push came to shove. And he'd better not - !

His breath hitched for a fraction of a second and the murmured whisper plunged her very soul into chaos, his hot release spilling inside of her, and it almost slipped her notice when the soft brogue brushed past her ear: "Ruby…"

Her name crossing his lips forced her own climax, and she cried out, the blazing bliss stretching out for a few moments longer, the intense pulse slowly receding into a pronounced throb. She was completely spent, so much that she failed to register having leaned her back fully against him, and rested on his chest, while her neck slotted onto his right shoulder. They were both out of breath, and there was something strangely comforting about the heaving of his chest against her back, both of them covered in sweat. His head was tossed back as well, and she could smell his hair – the scent of something burning, an incense stick perhaps, slightly sweet, but dry like ash, brittle and decaying in the lightest breeze. His hands were wrapped around her waist still, but she didn't want him to move them; it felt… safe.

In the hands of the most feared man in town, she actually felt safe and shielded from all harm – how crazy was that? Her hands reached up to cover his, securing the hold he had on her. This was the one moment of utter exhaustion in which she could actually entertain the thought that this was more than just a one night stand, that he was better than the rest, that he would _stay_, if only for a night, just long enough to dispel her doubts and chase away her demons.

"Are you all right?" He asked, his voice sounding nearly warm – it must've been the weariness talking, and her eyes stung for a bit. This stupid cellar needed vacuuming, asap.

"Mhm…" She murmured, not trusting her voice. Silence reigned for a moment longer, and then he spoke:

"We should get cleaned up."

Business tone.

Dismissive.

The magic was gone.


	14. Epilogue

Ruby gathered her scattered clothing, heels in hand, and after draping herself with his suit jacket to ward off the sudden chill, as well as cover some of her resurfacing shame, she asked:

"Where can I wash up?"

She wasn't even looking at him, but paid close attention to his murmured answer (he needed to clear his throat).

"Up the stairs, turn right. After you round the corner it should be the first door you see, straight ahead."

She had enough presence of mind to say "Thanks" before hurrying up the creaky, dusty steps. Her body moved as if possessed, and she didn't come to her senses till well after her back was against the inner side of the bathroom door. The light was dull; it wasn't flickering like the one in the basement, but she could barely focus on anything. Her chin hung close to her chest, conflicting emotions wreaking havoc inside of her body and mind. After dropping her clothes on the floor, she buried her fingers into the flesh of her thighs, scraping the skin in places. They were still trembling, and the involuntary spasms refused to subside. They served as an irrefutable reminder, a testament to what had happened earlier – the undeniable proof of what she had done, of what _they_ had done.

It wasn't a dream this time; it was real.

Her breathing quickened at the memory of his fingers, his ragged breath whiffing across the sweaty surface of her skin, making her moan softly in response, even after it was all done. This was stupid, so very stupid… Why did she feel so damn _soft_ afterwards?

Sex was not one of the things to make her cry, in fact, seldom anything was. Tears were a fundamentally useless construct to begin with, because nobody cared – everyone had their own problems to deal with, and she was never the one to push her misery onto others. Doing so helped no one, and it only seemed to make her problems more tangible, almost like voicing them was somehow defining their shape, molding them from something shapeless into a more permanent form.

She covered her mouth to stifle a sob, a single tear sliding down her cold cheek and further down through her shaky fingers.

"_Why?"_ She kept repeating to herself: _"Why? Why can't I be normal?"_

It was just sex, nothing more. They didn't do it for the company, they didn't do it out of anger, and God knows they didn't do it out of love, so why? Feeling wretched wasn't part of the deal. She was usually very good when it came to coping with her emotions, and knew why something made her feel the way it did, but this situation was stubbornly refusing to be catalogued and stashed into a cardboard box on the bottom of her mind's metal shelf – an evidence locker of every past crime, large and small.

She banged her head against the door in frustration, breathing heavily, letting her hands fall limply by her sides. God, this suit still smelled of him, and she found herself clinging to it, wrapping her arms about it and herself in the process, inhaling his heady scent, allowing it to anchor her to reality. She slipped onto the floor and curled up on the cold colorless tiles.

The mere presence of his scent was comforting, even though tears continued to spill – not many, just a few. It was almost like her heart was thawing after thousands upon thousands of years of arctic winds howling around it, and her inner landscape was slowly melting away.

It was painful and liberating at the same time, almost comparable to walking through the flames, and noticing that you were still alive and unharmed, realizing that all of your fears were unfounded, and that all you've ever believed in was a lie or, at least, a cruel twist of the truth.

She had been searching for love, but knew that finding it was pure, dumb luck. True love was a myth – many spoke of it, but rarely anyone could prove it existed. So, with time, she settled for fun. It was easy, it was harmless, it was like a little snow covered cabin amidst the frozen wilderness. There she could curl in front of the fire, sharing the warmth provided by the occasional guest that found himself stranded as well, only to close the door on him once the flames started to die out. She didn't want to stoke the fire, cared nothing for it – if it was dying on its own, let it die. True warmth was a glow; it was inextinguishable, or at least it was supposed to be. A myth she wanted to believe in, with all her heart, but there was always that little voice in the darkness, telling her she would never obtain it – she was undeserving.

Monsters are not supposed to get happy endings, only an angry lynch mob on their doorstep and a spear in the back.

So, what about two monsters? How does that work?

"It works _wonderfully_", the darker side of her mind offered. And that much was true; his company was a completely unexpected surprise – the good kind. She liked his words, the way he teased and tortured her into submission by all means at his disposal, the way he could make her lose herself and _forget_.

In his arms, she was something new, something completely different. Newborn, stronger, unafraid.

She liked that person – as inherently frail as well as deceptively powerful, a being that didn't need to order him to do some particular motion, she just had it without having to utter a single word. It felt slightly self-serving, but he _had_ her. He understood her, and actually cared.

No… That was just something that she wanted to believe in.

With that thought she got up, wiping the already drying trail of tears away, and stepped in front of the small mirror. Her reflection startled her for a moment – her eyes were dark, lips full and red, like there was still some lipstick left (even though it was long gone), and her hair was tousled, in a slightly wild way.

Yes, this was definitely the afterglow. It didn't always happen after sleeping with someone, only if the encounter was particularly satisfying. She wondered if this was what he saw – a wild, untamable creature of his own creation, crazed by lust and forced into placidity by some secret only he knew – a trick or a hypnotic stare coupled with a nerve-rattling snap of his fingers.

The adrenalin rush was subsiding, and she suddenly felt spent. The numbness claimed her limbs and she had no energy left to climb into the bath and wash herself properly. It would take too long, and she risked falling asleep on the spot (which would kill Granny if she ever found out).

She must never find out. Nobody must _ever_ know.

Ruby opened the tap and let the water run – lukewarm, that was fine. The soap she grabbed was bubbling under the stream, and she washed herself as thoroughly as she could under the circumstances. Rivulets of water ran down her legs, making her shiver and look for a towel. She grabbed the one hanging next to the basin and wiped herself, tossing it into the tub after she was done. There seemed to be no hamper here, and this would be a clear enough signal to the man that the towel should be washed.

After picking up her crumpled dress off the ground and sifting through it to find her panties, she turned it over a couple of times and gave it a thorough shake. When nothing turned up, she then looked to the floor. She moved the heels she had cast away with her foot, inspecting the tiles in search for her lacy briefs, but there was nothing there. Blinking in confusion, she repeated the process a few times before it dawned on her – she must have left them in the basement. With him.

Ruby had no idea of the passing of time, so she opened her purse to look for her cell: it was half past midnight. It wasn't that late yet, but it was about time to go home before gran got too upset.

She had to go get her underwear, but had no wish to revisit the scene of the crime so soon. Maybe, once she got out of the bathroom, he would have the decency to leave it somewhere for her to find. She didn't feel like facing the man right now. Even though stupor was taking over, she felt too tender, too raw. After getting dressed, she smoothed her hair a bit before turning to the door, clutching her heels and purse in left hand.

Steeling herself, she opened the door.

The house was eerily quiet. She walked across the polished wooden floor without making any noise, almost tip-toeing to the living room with withheld breath, hoping she wouldn't bump into him. To her immense relief, it seemed like he disappeared without a trace. The basement door was shut, and she assumed that he probably went upstairs into one of his many remaining bathrooms (a house this huge must have more than one, that's for sure, at least one per floor, at the very least).

She threw on her coat, buttoning it hastily and stared off into space for a moment. Going home was so unappealing all of a sudden. Sleeping in her bed should have been a comforting thought, with its promise of safety, but she felt reluctant. Spending the night with her dates was not her thing; she would always go home and lose herself in dreamless sleep, but now… For the first time in years, she found that she actually wouldn't mind the company, not even if he snored or tossed around - just having somebody around would be enough.

No, not somebody…

Mr. Gold.

And the idea terrified her. Making her mind up at once, she walked to the door, ignoring the pretty lights reflected off its stained glass surface and let the lock click softly behind her. The route home posed a problem – walking the streets would make her noticeable, and she didn't want that. Gold neither, most likely. He was a fiercely private person, after all, and the last thing she needed was a furious loan shark biting at her heels for ruining his carefully maintained rep.

She could take a shortcut through the woods, but then she'd have to go barefoot, which wasn't the brightest of ideas, but there was no choice – discretion had a price, and she'd sooner pay it than not. The grass on his lawn was soft, at least, and it didn't take long until she was shrouded by the trees and well out of sight. The air around her was damp, and she found it soothing. Here, she could breathe in fully, feeling the chill seeping in, banishing some of her darker thoughts with ease. It was so peaceful in the woods at night, the nature stilled, serene. Almost like a lullaby, it brought her calm.

By the time she got to the inn, her stockings were running in a dozen different places, snagged and muddy. She took them off on the porch, rolled them into a ball and stuffed them into her pocket. Then she used a wet tissue to wipe off her feet, and after throwing the used one into the pocket to keep the stockings' company, she unlocked the door quietly.

She prayed to God that Granny was asleep, and for the first time in many years, was actually grateful when her wish was granted.

Ruby collapsed onto the bed after throwing her coat over a chair. With no strength left to remove her make-up or brush her teeth, and no will to change into her pajamas, she just tumbled on the bed and fell fast asleep.

* * *

_**A/N: **_**This story has reached its end... But do not despair, there's more to come! I will post proofreading bloopers tomorrow, just to ease the pain this ending might have caused some of you... After that, I won't be in town for two weeks, so there will be a pause between the arcs (sorry about that).**

**The story will continue in a new fic called "Underneath the Skin", which will be slightly darker in its nature, and rated M accordingly. I will be following canon, from the pilot to the finale of season 1, and you can expect a lot of soul-baring for the both of them! I will also add more characters and explore Ruby's relationship with Ashley, Mary Margaret, Granny and Archie. I will also reveal a past trauma of hers, something which makes her who she is... I'll stop here before I spoil everything!  
**

**I thank you all for your continued support and I hope you will stick around for the sequel!  
**

**Love, Sya~  
**


	15. Crimson Gold Bloopers

I blatantly stole this idea from Rayvah (actually, I got permission, but yeah).

A huge thank you to my wonderful perfectionist beta no. 1 (Mislav) and to my gorgeous and inspiring beta/muse ParadigmFilter ! This fic wouldn't be what it is without you!

Some of these bloopers are me failing, some are my beta failing, and some are just witty comments I wanted to share. So, without further ado, I present "The making of" of Crimson Gold!

* * *

Chapter 6:

"Eh, y'know…" She tried. _"__**Hit and spectacular miss**__!__ (?, 'Shoot and spectacular miss'?)" _ I failed so bad here. Woopsie.

Chapter 7:

Alas, **Rumplestilstkin**'s _(misspelt)_ theatrics weren't appreciated in this world. Poor dearie, he thinks I misspelt it. *gives him a chipped cup of tea*

Chapter 8:

Ruby was still **under the impression** as her legs followed the road home on auto-pilot, all thoughts of the stroll through the forest wiped clean from her mind. (_This sounds like a Slavicism ;) Try "dazzled") _ Yup. Literal translation of my native language at work. Shame on me. Eternal and everlasting shame.

Chapter 9:

She tried to refuse him politely and hoped he wouldn't feel offended by her flat out refusal (even though she was trying to be **subtle and tactful** _(it's not subtle or tactful, when you ask someone if they want a bite, you're offering to share your food with them, the point of it is only very rarely to let them see how it tastes, and especially in this situation, her response would come across as rude because she would sound as if she pretended to understand what he said literally..you know what I mean? I say you keep the characterization of her being subtle but then obviously tweak what she actually says)_ about it). And this is why I need a beta! Obvious holes in my reasoning are obvious.

His absence meant that he either managed to get a treat from one of his friends, or that **he tried to take a piss on Regina's hedges again**, and was likely spending a cozy evening in jail. (_Oh my god, you're killing me. I was howling HOWLING I say when I read that. So very Leroy_ ) This is actually one of my favorite recurring motives, which ParadigmFilter and I sort of developed into an inside joke, I have no idea if anyone noticed this, but read her fic "Queen to Bishop 6" and you might notice it!

"True, but then again, some clumsy girl... or boy, could end up breaking priceless objects, and I don't think I'd be able to afford _that_. (_Hmmm, a little bitter, are we? __**snickers evilly) **_ I was glad she picked up on that, since nobody else seemed to… I just loved how he weaseled his way out of that one!

"See? Was that so hard?" Ruby beamed.

"**Harder than you think**." He admitted, tilting his head playfully. _((Squints suspiciously) I swear, my mind did one of those "Ella-esque" swan dives into the gutter at this one. You did that on purpose, didn't you?) _I actually didn't do it on purpose, but it dawned on me eventually and it only made me love it more!

"No thank you, I've already tried everything on the menu, I know how it tastes." _(LOL! Trying to wrench my mind out of the gutter with that comment, but I think it might need a forklift.) _ How can you not be inspired when your beta leaves you comments like that? Mission impossible!

Chapter 10:

"**What can I do you for today, Mr. Gold**?"

He looked up sharply, his deep brown eyes narrowing in what she assumed was disbelief or suspicion, looking like he wasn't sure if he heard it right.

**Ruby blushed furiously**; her cheeks flushing to the point where she could almost feel steam coming out of her pores. Of all the stupid stuff she could think of, what came out of her mind just _had_ to sound like sexual innuendo! _(Hahaha! Foot in mouth disease!) _This comment was too good to be wasted, so I ended up using it in my fic later on. Yep, I'm a thieving bastard.

…her recent scuffle with **Dr**_**. Wail**__. (Hehehe poor bastard!) _ I love lame puns. I was a bit sad that nobody really noticed my little play with words…

"You have no idea, sister." He grumbled dispassionately, the corners of his mouth pointing downwards. "Regina has no appreciation for my gardening skills." _(ROLF (Fertilizing the hedges again?)" _See what I mean by inside joke?

Gold cast her an incredulous look: "Do you really think I have nothing better to do with my time, than to stay by the road leading into our peaceful little town and pick off unsuspecting tourists?" _(I must say, the image is absolutely delightful.)_ I'm personally very fond of that banter myself. As I was writing it, I could see Gold in his black leather gloves, hidden in the bushes with his sniper rifle…

"Do you want to take me out or not?" She asked bluntly. This was as honest as she could get (**aside from grabbing a club and smacking him across the head with it**) and the ball was in his court. _(And dragging him to the cave? :D I love how that whole dialogue unfolds, btw, it's clever and also quite edgy.)_ Yesss! I absolutely hate the fact that Gold makes it so difficult to be seduced, I mean, there's only so many signals you can ignore! But yeah, he is suspicious by nature and not quite used to the idea of anyone wanting him, Belle was baffling enough. Poor guy, yes, but GET A CLUE ALREADY. Sheesh.

Chapter 11:

A quick glance at her cell revealed that it was quarter to eight, which left her just enough time to apply lipstick and pack her purse with all the necessities – **keys, cell, make-up and wet tissues**._ (Irresponsible girl, what about safe sex? Didn't your grandma teach you about condoms? ROFL J/K) _ I had a plan for this – I already knew she was on the pill, but yes – this proved that I love to play with my readers just to see what they'll assume… tee hee hee.

It was hot in the car and she realized that it would be a good idea to unbutton her coat before she began to **transpire** _(LOL it means: happen, you probably wanted 'perspire') _The tragic thing is – I know bloody well what both of these mean! My brain just kept skimming over the words as I edited, thinking I wrote 'perspire' instead. Troll brain.

Chapter 12:

Squashing the thoughts of **mooses** made entirely of fluffy dark chocolate _(Plural of moose is moose!) _ I DIED laughing when I read that! I fail so bad occasionally! XD

Chapter 13:

"I'd think this was a proposal, even without you getting down on one knee, but I fail to see a ring, so… **Either you're messing with me or you're the biggest cheapskate ever**. _(lol)" _ I had to post this because it was literally the FIRST and the LAST time in all 14 chapters that my beta no. 1 laughed at any of the jokes I wrote! I felt ridiculously proud. Damn, he's hard to please.

She let if fall freely wherever it damn well pleased and moved back to look at him and **asses** _(LOL, assess)_ the situation. Yes. I know the difference. But I ended up writing "asses" anyways. The context is gold, though! *cough* See what I did there?

That's all, folks! I hope you've enjoyed this little oasis of fail, and I'd love to hear any additional thoughts you might have now that the first arc is done! Comments and theories are most welcome, and if you have a suggestion about the direction you would like the sequel to take, my inbox is always open! :D

Many thanks to all of my readers and especially to my reviewers who brighten my days every time my email inbox lights up! I sincerely hope I keep meeting your expectations with the (considerably darker) sequel. See you in two weeks – when I post the prologue of "Underneath the Skin". Till then, stay safe and keep the OUaT flame alive!

Love you! *massive hugs*


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